


Give Me All Your Shame

by cassyeopeia



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Also Yeosang is a Cat Dad and I love that Cat, Alternate Universe - Burlesque Club, And Learning how to Overcome it, Anxiety, Bad Decisions, Blowjobs, Coming Out, Dry Humping, Firebreathing, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Jongho is Underage, Lots of Cursing, Lots of Musicals and Mythology Talk, Lots of alcohol, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor JongSan, Minor SeongJoong, Minor YunGi, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Nonbinary Character, Past Episodes of Insomnia, Recreational Drug Use, San is a Theatre Student, Separation Anxiety, They paint each other's Nails and do each other's Makeup, They're in Love and they're Cute, Toxic People, Trust Issues, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wooyoung is a Fine Arts Student, Yeosang is an aerialist, Yunho and Mingi are Married, Yunho is a Drag Queen, did i mention they're in love, everyone is stressed, past mental abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 122,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassyeopeia/pseuds/cassyeopeia
Summary: "Wooyoung watched as the blue light grew bigger and bigger. He watched a smaller figure descending from an aerial hoop in the shape of a crescent moon decorated with lights and white flowers. His limbs were hanging in the air, except one of his knees. The light shone on the boy’s body, and Wooyoung had to gulp to make sure that his throat was not dry."
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Choi San, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 44
Kudos: 190





	1. That Night it Rained with Moonstones

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again ;D  
> Here's something I've been working on since summer. It took a lot of restructuring and SO MUCH proofreading, but here it is ;(
> 
> I took a break from it at some point because I felt like it got too much, and it was too heavy at times, but going back to it was the best decision I've ever made.
> 
> Also Hi Hello here's my Twitter please be nice
> 
> @cassyeopeia

“Please!” San pleaded, knocking at Wooyoung’s door.

But on the other side of the door, Wooyoung sat down on his folded chair, slightly tilted back, a pencil between his teeth, one headphone in his ear, and the other one tucked in his collar. He hasn’t seen San that day, as he was trying to finish his life study. There was a cable extension cord across the room, and it has been there for the past two weeks, to the point where San started to see it as a barrier that he was never to trespass. The window was always open, and that was where Wooyoung dried his shirts. The duvet was crumpled up in the corner of the room and the pillow was under the bed for unknown reasons.

Wooyoung sighed. “Why me? You have like fifty friends!”

“I really don’t! Plus you never came with me! Also how long are you going to keep me here? Can I come in?”

Wooyoung removed his headphone and put his glasses back on. “Yeah.”

San opened the door and poked his head in, ready to receive a pillow to the face, but it never happened. Wooyoung was too focused on whatever he was doing.

He was working on a study of a man sitting down and looking at the sky, one leg stretched, and the other one bent, almost to his chest. San always praised his work and always showed Wooyoung off, took care of his works more than the other guy did, and there were times when he’d just watch him draw instead of doing his assignments. When San went through breakups, bad nights, toxic people, or bad grades, Wooyoung was always there drawing whatever. But more than that, San loved Wooyoung’s graphite or coal stained fingers.

“Looks good. Is this an assignment?”

“Like…two percent of it.”

San sat down on the bed, holding a cushion on his lap. And waited. Although he was sitting behind Wooyoung, he put on his best puppy eyes.

Because Wooyoung was always going to give in.

Usually in a number of seconds.

“What’s this show about?”

San smiled. “It’s Neo-Burlesque. It’s great. Went there a few times. The music, the show, the people, the drinks, everything. They have themes sometimes, like fairy tales, classics, musicals, I think they covered some horror at some point too. Last time they did ‘circus’, and there was this guy playing with fire. Literally. He’s a fire breather, and he had these…I don’t know what they’re called. They were ’S’ shaped anyway. But the community’s really nice. S’mostly why I’m going.”

“…Lots of people go there?”

“The place isn’t small, but not too big, and there’s usually the same people. You’ll stick with me, and I’ll introduce you.”

“You’re a regular now.”

“I’m getting there. But I have sort of a friend who performs there. Please, Woo! I wanna go!”

“…D’you need tickets or something?”

“I have two!”

“Of course you do.” Wooyoung muttered and buried his face in his palms. “Fine…I’ll go with you. Once."

San jumped off the bed and back hugged Wooyoung. “I love you, you have no idea how much!” And then kissed his head. “It’ll help you, I promise. It’ll boost your mood up.”

Wooyoung nodded, and San pouted at the lack of reaction, so he kissed his temple again. “I’ll go get ready.”

And when San left, Wooyoung already regretted his decision.

It wasn’t that Wooyoung disliked crowded places, and was against experiencing new things. It was just that University has drained him of his energy and curiosity. Netflix and late night walks and making sweets at 3AM and making crafts have become his definition of fun. San was the complete opposite. Last week he came back home at 6AM because someone accidentally drove him out town and he had to hitchhike his way back. And when he finished relating his adventures, it was 9AM. San really did live his days as if every was his last. Wooyoung, not so much. Nonetheless, the days where he had to pretend he was San’s boyfriend when some girl or dude was hitting on him were the best. They usually understand, but there were cases where Wooyoung had to kiss San in front of whoever. Were they awkward? No. Quite the opposite. San hasn’t stopped kissing Wooyoung’s face since. The lips were off limits unless it was an emergency. The day when Wooyoung kissed San’s lips led to them getting wasted, then helping each other get off in their bathroom. Were they awkward after this? No. It led to them taking showers together and drinking wine while having bubble baths. A series of mistakes and bad decisions made them more than comfortable with each other, where their only boundary was the cable in Wooyoung’s room.

San was a drama student, and had a thing for ancient Greek over that. He’d reference stories and legends when he was having casual conversations, and Wooyoung had no choice but to study it as well so he can understand him. San was loud, and he shouted lines from his favourite musicals late at night when Wooyoung was contemplating if his degree was worth it, and then he’d leave his room and shout the next line, until they’d get tired and crash in the living room.

Wooyoung was a fine arts student, and he never thought he’d see the day where he understood himself and his role on this Earth better than he understood the human bone structure. Human anatomy was his mortal enemy, and he was sure that it was because in his past life he helped hide a dead body and unfortunately failed. He carried his sketchbook everywhere, yet he still drew on things he probably should not, like napkins, receipts, or prescriptions.

He kicked his supplies and clothes away to clear himself a path through the room, until he reached his wardrobe. He had not worn anything fancy in weeks, and he had not been in a club in longer than that. He picked his best black skinny jeans, paired with some leather boots and a black and white shirt. He went to wash up and to style San’s hair, although he looked good with every hairstyle out there. San’s hair was dark again, and it was growing nicely, enough for Wooyoung to make some side braids. And in exchange, San slicked Wooyoung’s blond hair back, with the pretext that he ‘missed seeing his forehead’.

“I hate the fact that you’re so pretty.” Wooyoung said, and went to put his clothes on.

San jumped on his back again and kissed his neck and cheek. “You’ve clearly never seen yourself through my eyes then. I would totally do you.”

“On the list of things I did not ask for…this is at the top.”

Wooyoung’s eyes kept gravitating towards San’s sleeveless shirt, and at his nipples poking the thin fabric, and by that he understood that San had other plans in mind. He did not want to go there just for the show. He sat and watched as Wooyoung changed, whistling and encouraging him to show more. But then he finally got that pillow to the face he was expecting.

“You look better than me.”

“I do not.”

“What if you made a front knot with the shirt instead of tucking it in?” So Wooyoung unbuttoned the last three buttons and made a bow. “I like it. You cool with it?”

“I’m cool with both.” Then he looked at his reflection in the mirror and hummed. “I think I have…” He searched through his drawer and pulled out a pair of suspenders. “These.”

“I’m getting that rockabilly vibe. That what you’re going for?”

“Sans the tattoos, but yes. Sort of.”

“For someone who took hours to convince to leave the house, you seem to be really into it.”

“Might as well put some effort into it. Not like I’ll ever go outside again.”

“So that’s your plan.”

“I want people to feel haunted by the memory of me. That’s how hot I aspire to look. Leave the house once, fuck shit up, then go back to hibernate.”

The place was a few stations away by subway, and San would not stop pinching Wooyoung’s knuckles in excitement. He told him about how the performers come down and have a chat with their costumers after they refresh their makeup, and how apparently a drag queen and her partner owned the club.

There were people gathered in front, women in short, scarlet dresses, men in suits and bowties, as well as some in either vintage clothing or even costumes. The entrance was a large, double door, and the hallway was lit by red neon lights shaped like roses or pairs of lips, and tall, velvet lamps at the end of the said hallway. Crimson tapestry covered the walls, and massive, faux crystal chandeliers across the ceiling. On the right there was the bar, mahogany with marble countertops, long enough for three people to lie across it. Soft jazz music played from the speakers in the corners of the lounge, and on a platform centimetres lower than the stage there was an upright piano.

“There’s a- Wooyoung, what’re you doing?”

He was staring at the boy playing the piano. At his dirty, blond mullet, the lit cigarette between his lips, his black, Homburg hat. He wore a bright, cream shirt with the sleeves up to his elbows, and high waisted trousers held up by suspenders. His eyes appeared to be closed and he was smiling, occasionally puffing out the smoke.

“He’s so cute.”

“He is, huh.”

And they stared together at the boy with the mullet while he played piano. Until he had to go backstage and they continued to look around. They eventually took a seat at the bar and San ordered absinthe for both of them. The spot was good enough to see the stage.

“So what do you think?”

“It’s not so bad. It’s a lot to take in, but the place looks great.”

Eventually the music went down, and everyone turned their attention to the stage. The lights dimmed down completely, and people began shouting and whistling.

Wooyoung drew his attention towards the stage at the sound of heels tapping against the hardwood floor. He saw a tall figure in all that darkness, but eventually the spotlights turned back on and fell right over them. Wooyoung’s hand froze in place, his glass almost sliding from his hand.

A woman stood in the centre of the stage. Legs long and thin, but with a very masculine roughness to them. Her waist was thin and her hair was long and black, falling over her hips. She wore a black tailcoat and a white shirt underneath, similar to a ringmaster’s outfit. Knee high boots with tall platforms, and every tap of her heels roared throughout the room, louder than any drum. 

“Good evening, transgenders, bigenders, agenders, intersex, and non binaries, ladies and gentlemen! Children of love divine! I welcome you to _L’aubade_! Old, and new faces I see! Yours, and yours, and yours too! For those of you who don’t know,” She paused and placed a hand over her chest, a perpetual smile on her lips “Let’s _queer_ things up,” She wiggled her eyebrows and the audience chuckled and giggled “My name is Jubilee, and I rule over this reign! and you are in for such, _such_ a wild ride tonight!” She looked across the room as if she was taking every face in and exchanged great amounts of love with every single person through every eye contact she made. “Yesterday we made you weep! But we are all children of Love, and we do not deserve to shed tears, not here! Not anymore! Tonight we will fill you with love! Sumptuous and seductive! Now sit back, try to relax, although I don’t think you’ll be able to by the end of this, and by all means keep your hands off each other because I know y’all nasties right there in the back!” She sent a kiss towards the public and one for the boy playing the piano, which he pretended to have caught in his hands as if it was a feather. Jubilee took her final bow, and walked out of the stage, then lights went out once again. 

The spotlights were lifted towards the first level of the stage, where six dancers awaited their signal. Six men, wearing long, white, sheer and flowy skirts, silver glitter on their upper bodies, and anklets decorated with white feathers and puff. They moved gently, swaying by the soft music, lifting each other off the floor as if they were weightless. One holding the other in their arms and spinning them around like one would toss heaps of snow in the air. Glitter flakes and tinsel strings began falling down on them, and their moves were so synchronised, as if there only one of them, and the rest were mirrors. They lied down on the floor with their behinds facing the audience, and rolled to their side, legs up at a perfect angle. The glitter on their skin flew away, like fairy dust with every beat of their wings. Kneeling in a semi-circle, they lifted their right arms up to the sky, towards the second level of the stage.

And the room went dark.

Wooyoung watched as the blue light grew bigger and bigger. He watched a smaller figure descending from an aerial hoop in the shape of a crescent moon decorated with lights and white flowers. His limbs were hanging in the air, except one of his knees. The light shone on the boy’s body, and Wooyoung had to gulp to make sure that his throat was not dry.

The boy’s legs were covered in crystals and rhinestones, and his hair was slicked back, silver glitter also dusted his neck and cheeks, and over his smooth and empty chest. His lips were glowing, and when he looked towards the audience, Wooyoung caught a glimpse of his blue eyes. He spun slowly, as if the moon was a full circle, and he controlled the hoop as if it was an extension of his body. He appeared to fly and to make the air kneel to him. Smiling widely, he lifted himself up,and Wooyoung noticed the strings around his hips. Wide, silver strings, like a makeshift skirt, dense enough to cover his private parts. He hooked his leg over the hoop and dropped down, earning himself a shocked reaction from the public. He pulled himself up easily, like the air made him grow wings. Wooyoung blinked, and the boy was once again, over the hoop, his legs on one side, and the rest of his body on the other, grabbing his ankles and slowly making the moon spin. He lifted one leg up in a perfect split, then grabbed the hoop to lift his body up. Then the dancers joined him for the last half of the show, jumping high with their hands raised as if to reach the moon. They formed a circle around the boy with blue eyes and performed aerial cartwheels and back somersaults on one foot, landing in a straight line. They were powerful, so powerful, that Wooyoung felt like knelling before them. To him, it seemed as if before him a ritual was unraveling, like the one he read in myth books about.

His eyes went dry, but the pain of refusing to blink compared to the one of missing another second from seeing the boy in the moon was nothing. If he demanded to have his eyes, Wooyoung would give them up.

The boy began spinning quicker and quicker, his head dropped low, upside-down, and he was still smiling. He lowered one arm, and a dancer kissed it. He dropped his second arm, and another dancer kissed it. Wooyoung paid close attention at how his empty feet were hooked around the hoop for him to feel so stable, and how his muscles contracted, then he noticed the patches and bandaids wrapped around his every toe.

When he gathered back up and detangled himself, two dancers grabbed the hoop to stop it from moving, and the boy was now in a sitting position, dangling his feet in the air as if that was the most comfortable place to sit in. The dancers bowed one by one, and the boy sitting on the moon stood up on one leg and bowed at ninety degrees, one arm over his stomach. Everyone stood up for them, shouting and clapping and whistling, and someone even threw a white flower crown at them. One dancer picked it up and placed it on the head of the blue eyed boy.

Wooyoung saw himself running his index finger down the silver on the boy’s body, and down to the metallic strings around his hips. He would stare at him with his glowing blue eyes, and would wrap his legs around Wooyoung’s waist. Or his shoulders. He would have the burning taste of glitter on his tongue, the boy’s skin would be magma and rain, and by the time he finished, Wooyoung’s tongue would be scorched. But then, so would the boy’s throat.

San nudged him, and when he got dragged back to the present, the stage was dark again. There was no white glitter, no moon. No one.

“Wooyoung-ah,” San called him for the tenth time.

Wooyoung looked at him with glassy eyes. San knew the feeling, so he laughed and passed his roommate another shot, which Wooyoung just tossed down his throat. It would not be the first time where it had not minded downing the glass too while he was at it.

“T’was good, right?”

Wooyoung nodded and finally exhaled a hot breath. “…Would you believe me if I told you I just climaxed, but like…in my heart.”

San gave him a side hug and rested his chin on Wooyoung’s shoulder. “Totally.”

Wooyoung decided to wait outside during the second number, but only once San confirmed that none of the former dancers were there. He waited it out on the veranda, accepting a cigarette from a stranger although he didn’t smoke. He hid it in his pocket and went to admire the view.

He found his hands trembling and his lungs filled with something much thicker. A cold wave would crash over his chest when he’d remember that cursed face and those cursed eyes. If only he sat closer to the stage. The glass of water in his hand also seemed to be shaking, but whatever he was afraid of, or whatever made him so excited, was going to keep him awake for a long time. He was going to finish his assignment in one night. He saw San’s message two minutes too late, finished his water, and rushed back in.

And he wished his hadn’t. The devil’s spawn was back on stage with a leather harness and shorts, light pouring over him like sanctified water during a repentance. The man before him was much taller and wore a police man’s hat, and a tight skirt. He dragged his finger across the boy’s lips, then shoved it in his mouth. His eyes were open as he sucked on the digit, but the blond man grabbed his fringe and yanked his head back, enough for the younger one to open his mouth wide. That entire interaction, and every hot feeling that came with it, went straight below Wooyoung’s waist. He crossed his legs and continued watching. The man in the policeman hat shoved another finger in the other’s mouth and pulled out something thin and golden, like a string or a necklace, from underneath his tongue. The boy stuck his tongue out and by the way his neck contracted, Wooyoung assumed he made a lewd sound. So did Wooyoung to stop himself from gagging at the sight. San noticed his struggle and smirked.

He lied down, and the blond stepped closer to him. He saw this as a signal to slightly part his legs, as the other leaned his platformed boots on his crotch, applying enough pressure for the other to raise his chest and bite on his knuckle. The loud and sensuous jazz was the only element of the real in Wooyoung’s mind. He often felt like he going in and out of it, like he was being directly hypnotised rather than entertained.

The next time he was dropped back to the present, he found blue-eyes sitting down on a red, padded chair, with the blond down on his lap, and wrapping the golden string around his neck. With a smirk, he started grinding against him; slow and hard, like hips were fluid. Wooyoung’s eyes had never left the boy with brown hair, even when he dropped to the floor, when he moaned and smiled. He watched him unblinkingly. When the blond dragged the harness across his nipples, when the lights went crimson, and when he pulled the leather shorts off him, revealing the black thongs he wore underneath. Wooyoung wanted to be taken away and dropped somewhere far, and San was living his best life watching him suffer.

The audience went insane, and the clapping did not stop for a solid minute. They laughed with the people, and bowed three times each. The blond, taller man, helped the younger one up and immediately covered his body however he could when they walked off stage.

Wooyoung had to make a conscious effort to exhale. His soul and heart were virgins. His body, not so much. But he was not sure of his soul anymore either. He’s never seen someone’s ass seconds away from meeting them, although he did not complain.

San nudged him and dragged him to the bathroom, refusing to give him time to collect himself. “You look like you don’t want to be alive.” San said, rearranging his hair in the mirror.

Wooyoung gave him a merciful look.

“What’s wrong, Woo? Cat got your tongue? Or was it the dude with blue eyes?”

“…Listen. Listen, I’m…shocked. Speechless. Overwhelmed. Excited. Turned on. Relieved.”

“What more would you want in a good sex round?”

Wooyoung wanted to kick San, but he made a run for it even before moving a muscle.

People started leaving, and the two killed time until the place was empty, hiding in a corner and checking people out.

“You said you know someone here?”

And San ignored Wooyoung’s questions for the next ten minutes. Until it was only them, the barman who did not mind them being there, and three other people cleaning things up.

San was on his sixth shot, and currently in the process of getting the said barman’s number. Wooyoung was two seats away from him, too euphoric and dizzy to be bothered he was third-wheeling.

“So, um, are we waiting for your friend, or-”

“San!” Someone said, and Wooyoung lost his voice. Thank every lord out there he was sitting down.

His skin was glitter clear, and his lips looked a little duller, but they still glistened in that weak light. A satin, boudoir robe was wrapped around him. His hair was much messier, glitter flakes here and there. The circles around his eyes looked better on him than every blush or eyeshadow. He was loved by every deity, and whomever he idolised was very generous. Who knew gods walked the same Earth as Wooyoung.

“Yeosangie hyung!” San walked up to him and hugged him so casually, Wooyoung almost saw it as blasphemy. “You were so good!”

This Yeosang person had the audacity to be shy and to cover his face with his sleeve when he received a compliment, as if he did not just flash his ass in front of who knows how many people.

“This is Wooyoung. Best friend, roommate, soulmate, heart donor. T’was his first time here today.”

“Heart donor.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Wooyoung said, with a sigh. “But yeah, never been here before.”

“How did you find it?”

Wooyoung nodded, and his brain disposed of his every ability to communicate. “Great. Loved it. You were great. Everyone. Ten out of ten would come again.”

Yeosang raised his hand. “Yeosang. It’s nice to meet you.”

Wooyoung shut his brain down and shook his hand. “Wooyoung. Same here.”

“Sannie!” Another male voice said, oddly similar to Yeosang’s. Wooyoung was surprised to see Jubilee as he was not ready to see her up close. She changed into a short, black dress, and lower sandals, but still tall enough to tower over everyone. “Do you do costume or stage design in Uni?”

“Ugh, no. Plain ol’ drama. Why?”

“Jubilee had a fight with our designer earlier. And now we only have one, but there’s a lot to do.” Yeosang said, giving Jubilee a side hug.

“Yes, her contract ends next week, but until then…”

San looked down, scratching the back of his head.

“Are you up for it?” San nudged Wooyoung, and the latter froze.

“Me?” He looked around, at all the pairs of eyes pointing at him, too many for comfort. “I don’t think I-”

“He did costume design for a year, and he still does that at home, and was a prop manager in his first year, he’s just being humble.”

“San, I-”

“Oh, what an opportunity for you.” Jubilee clapped her hands and walked over to Wooyoung with a smile on her face. “Can I have your phone?” Jubilee typed something in and handed it back. “This is my number. Do send me some of your work. I’m a little desperate at the moment.”

Wooyoung gave San a death glare and took his phone back. “Jeong Yunho?”

Jubilee nodded. “That’s my name.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll…send some stuff. But I still don’t think I’m-”

“Well then we’re going!” San shouted, grabbing Wooyoung shoulders.

“Stop speaking over me, you dickhead!”

“No! You’re wasting your talent! You’re growing roots in the house! And why grow roots when you can bloom, Wooyoung?”

“If I want to bloom, I need roots, you idiot!”

“Now you’re just taking my metaphor too far.” San looked back at Jubilee and sighed dramatically. “See this? This is what I have to deal with every day.”

“Listen, I’m- I’m drunk. Maybe not that drunk, but enough to make some dumb decisions. I need to think about this.”

“I hereby declare myself ‘your voice of reason’ and I am telling you that you can.”

“I have enough of you being in my house. I really don’t want you in my head too. Kindly fuck off. I said I’ll think about it. I don’-” He stopped himself when he realised their bickering seemed to have an audience. A pleased one at that.

Wooyoung sighed, but that was just a poetic way of saying he exhaled his regrets out.

“Okay, fine.”


	2. Gods Don't Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Looking for something, daddy?”  
> “Yeah, I was looking for something to stab myself in the eye with. Please, you’re exhausting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;(( I had so much fun writing this one so much  
> I love Yunho and Hongjoong's characters

“Once in my life I leave the house and this happens! San, what the fuck?!”

“Fuck’s sake, stop shouting, you landed on a job, and you get to see Yeosang with blue contacts. It’s a win-win any way. Who doesn’t need money?”

“But I- I don’t think I can do this.”

“Why did you say yes?”

“The way Jubilee looked at me? And Yeosang? They looked so…hopeful. I can’t believe I have a week to study costume design when I have studies to draw and things to do, and assignments, and-”

“Woo. You’re crafty.”

“And?”

“Listen. I know you have a lot going on right now, but it’s gonna be okay. I would not have recommended you if I didn’t trust you. If you’re ever in a jam, I could suggest things. I’ve seen quite the number of sets, but I just lack imagination. You have enough. I may be drunk and sleep deprived, but whenever I tell you that I trust you, I am looking deep…deep into you eyes, and you are very, very beautiful, Wooyoung, and- and I trust you! And I love you! And I trust you again! I trust you like Hades trusted Persephone that she’d come back.”

“They made a promise.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me they didn’t trust each other!”

“…They did, San. They did.”

“S’what I fuckin’ thought!”

Wooyoung stood in front of his laptop with his paintbrush in his mouth, spinning in his chair. They both had cooled down, ate their fair share of snacks, and now they were both doing what they knew least. San was resting, and Wooyoung was focusing. It was usually the other way around. Wooyoung was too proud that he finished his drawing to be able to sleep. He wished San was awake to see it. He, however, woke up from the dead when his phone vibrated. He picked it up, eyes still closed, and blinked repeatedly to make sure he read that right. Wooyoung watched him smile tenderly, and by the soft lighting on his face, he was looking at a picture. San turned the phone towards Wooyoung. It was a cat lying on top of a boy’s head, but it was only his eyes in the photo. “Who is that? He has pretty eyes.”

But the wrinkles from San’s eyes gave away the answer before his words would. Only people who were in love smiled like that, or so Wooyoung’s dictionary said.

“Can I talk to you about something?” San said, with a seriousness that he rarely spoke in. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“Shoot.”

San shifted, covering himself up with the blanket. “So I’ve been talking to this guy. We’ve met at the club actually. This was before I took you with me. We just started talking, we drank, and then we exchanged numbers. His name is Jongho. He’s fun. He’s cute. And I thought, you know, something was going to happen.”

“And why doesn’t it?”

“Because he’s seventeen.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it’s not the worst. You’re not gonna get in trouble if you talk to him and have lunch together.”

“I like him, Woo. I like him a lot, and I feel like I shouldn’t.”

“Name the love.” 

“… _Storge_? Maybe not even that. _Philia_. Somehow. It’s very soft. I want to be a good hyung for him. I want to keep giving him advice when he struggles with school, and to walk him home when he doesn’t want to go alone. But obviously the choice is his alone.”

“To wait for you?”

“Yeah. I’ll wait for him.” 

“I mean kindness is at the root of love, so think of it as growing a flower together.”

San held still, his expression stunned. “I am disgusted, but my heart grew a little.” He sighed. “For fuck’s sake, now I wanna grow a hyacinth.”

Wooyoung chuckled, and continued to nom on the paintbrush’s end. “Will you sleep now?”

San shook his head. “I like watching you draw. It makes me think of things. It’s like therapy. I’ll watch you…until I fall asleep.” Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders, aggressively turning his back towards San to keep himself from smothering him in affection.“Woo…I really like watching you draw…I dunno…It makes me…nice and calm…nice and calm…” San mumbled. His eyes were already closed. He sounded just like he did when he was drunk. It’s worth noting that Wooyoung stole a forehead kiss from him that night.

And the next week went exactly how Wooyoung predicted. He spent three times more than usual in the library, and even ordered food there. He was alone, and his sensors flared up when he saw San and his squad approaching. He didn’t like San’s squad. He sneaked to a table in the corner and ate his noodles in silence. The hours went by quickly while he read articles and posts about stage and costume design during the breaks when he wasn’t writing his essay. Wooyoung was good at what students called ‘bullshitting his way through’. On his third day of research, he had the realisation that he was focusing too much on the theatre side of the performance rather than on the performance itself. His phone battery ran out when he had this epiphany, so he did not know what time it was. The moon was up in the sky. Crescent, like an aerial hoop.

Yeosang’s face and voice would appear in his head like a summoned genie, but now he was not a presence he feared anymore. The thought of Yeosang made him smile. Comfortably. His infatuation was wearing off, lifting up like a thick fog.

They went to the club again that Friday, when Yeosang was not performing. Wooyoung took notes on the scenic design and the costumes, and when he returned home, he designed three costumes, surprised about his own creative flow. San watched him draw, like he always did, and he posed for him and brainstormed ideas together. That night was a white night. They both had 9AMs. They both slept thirty minutes. 

On his first day at _L’aubade,_ Wooyoung was there the earliest, already spamming San with messages about how nervous he was, although San was still sleeping. He put on his best jeans and ankle boots, and spent more time styling his hair than he spent working on his assignments that week. It was a few hours past noon. The street was relatively busy, but Wooyoung’s eyes were on the withering trees. He took slow and deep breaths to keep his heart from racing. 

Less than ten minutes later, a red Mercedes parked on the other side of the road, and from it, exited two tall men. One had sleek black hair, bow-shaped lips, and a red, snakeskin suitcase in his hand, along with a wide-brimmed hat. The second one was slightly shorter, eyes narrower and more intimidating, with a full black outfit, and a grey topcoat over.

For some reason Wooyoung recognised the first one.

They kissed each other’s cheeks before parting ways for the moment. But before they did, the man with the snakeskin suitcase shouted a cheerful ‘Thank you!’.

He smiled even brighter when he met Wooyoung, tipping his wide-brimmed hat to him as a greeting, and only when the man winked he recognised him as “Yunho hyung.”

He chuckled, opening the front door for Wooyoung first. “Sorry, didn’t have the chance to introduce myself properly.” He said, taking Wooyoung’s hand and kissing the back of it, as he took a short bow. “Song Yunho. Delighted to meet you.”

Wooyoung laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “How courteous of you.”

“I am weak to beautiful men.”

“Oh, stop it.”

Yunho winked. “That man you saw there is my boyfriend. He’ll come back, he just went to get me coffee. Would you like anything?”

“No, I’m okay. I can’t drink when I’m nervous.”

“Please. Nothing to be nervous about. I’m the sweetest person you’ll ever meet.”

Wooyoung nodded timidly, bringing his hands together, not knowing what else to do with them. “Um, the woman I saw yesterday…”

“Hm?”

“I mean. Jubilee. I mean I just want to make sure, because -if, you know.”

“Jubilee is my drag name. When I’m not in drag, you can call me by my name.”

Wooyoung nodded, shyly looking away when Yunho smiled widely at him.

He took a seat at the table closest to the stage and invited Wooyoung to sit as well, while he opened his suitcase and retrieved a thin pile of papers. “Right, let’s get this boring paperwork out of the way. Read through this as many times as you want. I’m here if you have any questions. Then,” He also fetched a much smaller bag, and out of the bag he pulled out three bottles of nail polish, and cotton discs “We’ll discuss your schedule, salary,” He moved his hand in a circle motion in the air to indicate an enumeration of things he did not want to list. “Stuff, you get it. Please don’t mind me in the meantime.”

Wooyoung smiled and nodded. He skimmed through the contract, only reading the beginning and ending of each sentence, but he did a very good job pretending he was interested. He was more focused on Yunho’s nail designs, his floral scent, his long fingers. He was distracted by how long his earrings were, and how they sparkled in the yellow light. But he made it through, signing wherever he needed, furrowing his eyebrows to further emphasise that yes, he was indeed reading.

Soon, the front door opened again, and the man with intimidating eyes was back. Wooyoung found him a lot cuter up close. His shoulders were wide, his lips were full and smooth, and the way he smiled at Yunho made Wooyoung envious.

“Their ice machine wasn’t working, and they couldn’t make cold drinks, so,” Mingi handed Yunho a paper coffee cup. “I brought you a hot one instead.”

Yunho leaned his jewelled hand gently over his chest, in a theatrical manner. “Mingi, I put a lot of things in you, from my faith to my dick, and this is what you do?” He said, still taking the coffee.

But Mingi still wrapped a possessive arm around Yunho and kissed him as hard as one would when having much intimate intentions. “I see your mouth works just fine after last night.”

Wooyoung screeched. In his mind, not out loud. He didn’t feel awkward in this type of situations. In fact, he wanted to get involved, laugh about it, and make an even dirtier joke. But he settled for smiling.

“Mingi, this is Wooyoung. Managed to capture this one in record time.”

“Please stop scaring the staff.”

“Anyway, Wooyoung, this is Mingi. He’s my boyfriend, and the only person on this Earth who has put up with me for almost six years.”

Mingi rolled his eyes, secured his dossier to his armpit and went in for a hand shake as he took a short bow. “We’ve actually been married for three years, don’t listen to him. Song Mingi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Also, forgive him. He has no shame.” Mingi said, ignoring the offended noise Yunho made.

“It’s all good. It was fun. Was just talking about how nervous I am.”

Mingi nodded. “Yunho is talented in calming people, so you’re fine.” He took off his coat and hooked it against his arm before going to kiss Yunho’s head while he was still painting his nails. He ignored the curse words that came out of his mouth. “I have paperwork to finish, so I’ll head upstairs. Bring me the contract when you finish it. Upstairs, the double doors on the right.”

Wooyoung nodded obediently, and immediately went back to reading it.

By the time he finished, Yunho’s nails were nice and dried up and sparkly. “Lovely, thank you. Any questions at all?”

Wooyoung nodded, turning the papers around to face Yunho. “Yes. I wanted to discus pronouns.”

Yunho nodded, one corner of his lips arching up. “Of course. Yours?”

“No. Yours. Everyone else’s. If there’s anything I should know.”

Leaning back against the backrest, Yunho crosses his arms, his foot pendulating in the air. “I go by male pronouns, except when I’m in drag. Same with Seonghwa hyung. Hongjoong goes by ‘them’.”

“Hongjoong? They’re the ones I’ll be working with?”

“Yes. They’re the most adorable bean you’ll ever meet.”

Wooyoung nodded again, softly clapping his hands under the table. “Oh, I,” He trailed off, placing his dossier on the table, one filled with his drawings and designs. Yunho carefully looked through them, inspecting every line and stroke, proportion and colour choice, humming in a different tone to everything that pleased him more or less. By the time he reached the last paper, Wooyoung learned Yunho’s hum range, and how he needed to hum to show that he was impressed.

“Who knew we landed on a jack-of-all-trades.” Yunho said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“No. No, not at all. I was just inspired.”

“Can I take a picture of these?”

“You can have them. They’re for you. I just thought the ones I sent you were not enough.”

“I’m flattered. Oh, here’s your signature as well. I might frame these somewhere. Here or home. But you see, this one,” He placed a paper atop of the pile. A costume that Wooyoung designed after he watched The Hunger Games. A long, sheer red skirt, with two leg slits for less restricted movement, with a high waistband, connected to the top with strings of red. The top was long sleeved and little over the chest. “Can you talk to me about this one?”

“This is pretty old. I’m not one hundred percent happy with it anymore, but I know what adjustments I would make. I’d change the red to a gradient. Red to orange. Some yellow too. And I want the skirt to come in layers, just to emphasise the flow of a flame. I don’t mind the top so much, but maybe cut the sleeves out. Oh, or…Or we could, for the makeup, I mean, I’d want his hand to go from black, then blend it in with some purple, then red, then go up with brighter and brighter, until it almost blends in with the top. Not the whole body, just a bit of his right arm and right side of the waist, and sprinkle some grey on the leg as well. What if…No, what if the top was white or cream, and…”

“And?”

“I’d love to see it glow.”

“Interesting. So what fabric were you thinking?”

“Fiber optic.”

“Wooyoung, my love, I’ve met you less than an hour ago and you’re already a challenge for me.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“And I love it. You’re a man after my own heart. Our Yeosangie would love this one.”

“How come?”

“The baby’s a bit of a pyromaniac. A bit.”

“Just a bit.”

“Yes. He sets papers on fire when he’s stressed. He’s learned not to do it in indoors after the last time he gave me a heart attack.” Yunho tapped his nails against the wooden table. “I’ll make this happen for you.”

“Wait, really? For when?”

“Well we have shows scheduled for the next couple of weeks, so maybe next month. I need you to work together with Hongjoong for this and let me know the budget you need.”

The front door opened again, and a young man, shorter than Yunho, walked in as if he just entered a runway. He wore an even wider-brimmed hat, a cream coloured, knitted shawl, peacock feathers for earrings, and high beige boots. He greeted the two with the widest smile.

“Hongjoong! Little star, I was just talking about you!” Yunho shouted, and Hongjoong scurried to give him a hug, dropping their hat in the process.

Wooyoung picked their hat up and placed it on the table, his heart becoming all soft and fluffy at the interaction before him.

“You made it! I’m glad. I’m Hongjoong. We’ll be working together, yeah?”

“I- Yes? I think? Jung Wooyoung. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I like your glasses. Are they for show?”

“No, I can’t see shit without them.”

“Wooyoungie, why don’t you tell Hongjoong about your costume ideas, and they’ll show you around while I get everything started here.”

Wooyoung nodded and gathered his stuff. Before going to the workshop, Wooyoung stopped by the office Mingi told him about, yet too shy to knock at the door, so Hongjoong did it for him.

“…Mingi-ssi?” Wooyoung called, poking his head in.

“…’-ssi’, who do you think I am?”

Wooyoung walked in, arranging the little pile of paper before putting them on the desk. The office was no less than a real president’s office, with heavy, vintage furniture, and velvet lamps. “Well, first of all, my boss, second of all, older than me, third of all, you’re mad cute, so…Hyung? Daddy?”

Mingi snorted, not lifting his eyes from his laptop. “You have no shame either.”

“Yes, it’s a problem of mine.”

On the other side of the door, Hongjoong slapped their forehead. When Wooyoung walked out proudly, they shamelessly took his hand and guided him upstairs. Wooyoung noticed how they never stopped smiling. He also thought about how everything was too good to be true, how everyone was too nice to be real, and how the place was too perfect for him to not be part of a dream.

The workshop was just a little smaller than the lounge. Almost every wall was filled with colour coordinated fabric shelves and thread racks, and to Wooyoung, the fabric bits on the floor were like a flower carpet lied down just for him. Five adjustable mannequins by every table, three of them currently dressed up with gowns, and one of them with a heavy necklace down to the stomach in thin chains. The wall with the door was filled with sketches pinned on cork boards, and in the other corner there was a stack of storage boxes. The back of the door was covered in pictures of everyone. Hongjoong, Yunho, Yeosang, and Mingi, with Yunho’s hand always around him. Pictures they took when they went out together, some they took in secret of the dancers while they were rehearsing, some during the real performance.

“The lady who left. Did you get along with her?”

Hongjoong threw their bag on the desk and sat down on the spinning office chair, sliding back to Wooyoung. “See, I like to believe that I’m easy to hang around with.Yunho told me so. Mingi told me so. But that lady I worked with —We used to call her the Witch, by the way, because she laughed like one, but that’s besides the point— she made it pretty difficult for me to work. She was very patronising just because I was younger. Between you and I right now, I didn’t attend a University for this. I just started altering my own clothes. But she! She was a graduate! Two degrees! Which is cool, don’t get me wrong, but you know…”

“I get you.”

“Yeah, like, don’t make me feel like shit just because I was poor. I’m sorry, am I talking too much? Was I rambling?”

“No, don’t worry. My academic experience in this domain is close to nothing too, sooo you’re going to have to teach me stuff.”

“Sure thing. Tell me stuff about you.”

Hongjoong removed their hat to reveal their long, golden mullet. They looked at Wooyoung as they ruffled their hair back to life. In Wooyoung’s head, Hongjoong resembled a bumblebee. Small, fluffy, and all over the place. Hongjoong changed subject as fast as a bee travelled from flower to flower. Their smile was also very contagious.

“Is there anything you want to know?”

“You’re a student?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you study?”

“Fine arts?”

“Oh! An artist!”

“Hah. I wish. Just messing around until I graduate.”

“Where are you staying?”

“…Not too far from here.”

“With San, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what do you do for fun?”

“Dorm parties occasionally. I draw stuff. San got me into myths, so I’ve been reading a lot of those.”

“Greek?”

“That too, but I’ve been into Hawaiian and Aztec mythology lately.”

“I’m suddenly interested. Be sure to tell me more over dinner…You’re having dinner with us, right?”

“…I guess. I’m gonna be here for a while.”

Hongjoong nodded, eyebrows raised to show a little pity, because they were both in the same mess together. They went to the cork board wall and unpinned a sheet of paper with lists and a data table. “Right, so for tonight’s show we have a neo-burlesque number, we need only one costume for that, then we have something called ‘The Interlude’, simplistic and dark, two costumes for this one, and for the last one we have Yeosang’s ‘Waning Moonstone’, so six costumes here, and his is in his own changing room.”

“He has his own changing room?”

“Yep. Him and other three. I’ll go easy on you, so you’ll have to go there and help him out. Adjust his chains, his ferronnière, and everything, okay? Costumes with more metal than fabric really stress me out. One more thing. Change of makeup for ‘Waning Moonstone’. Have you used an airbrush before?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. We need lots of silver. There’s never too much silver. Have fun with it.”

“Wow, you put a lot of faith in me. I feel pressured.”

Hongjoong winked. “Good.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon altering the costumes for the shows later on in the week. Wooyoung found out that Hongjoong was very good at speaking with two needles between their lips, and they seemed more threatening that way too. They were talking about how Hongjoong was so against buying clothes and that they make almost everything they wear. They told Wooyoung ‘Don’t you dare throw your clothes away next time’ while pointing the needle in their mouth at him.

He also found out that Hongjoong was a compliment fountain. They praised him for every sown hem, for every glued rhinestone. To return the favour, Wooyoung asked more about their experience with costumes, and what made them be interested in it. Hongjoong had an unlimited spring of ideas, that only by the way they talked about what they wanted to make, Wooyoung became excited, and even made notes on how to make it happen.

By the time the show hour approached, it was safe to assume that they have bonded over their love for theatre and jazz. An hour before the show, Hongjoong went to change in their trousers and put their suspenders on, and went downstairs to practice the piano piece. Wooyoung went down just to see them play, before he was pulled back by the realisation that he should be adjusting Yeosang’s costume and do his makeup.

He rushed to his changing room, unsure if to knock or not, disturb him or not. He looked over his shoulder, counted to three, then knocked. He heard a low voice coming from the other side of the door, mumbling something inaudible, so he allowed himself to peek in.

The changing room was small, not very wide, with one long, white vanity table, and a red couch on the opposite wall. The wall behind it was decorated with hooks by which accessories and small pieces of clothing hung, like hats, gold necklaces, and bralets. The vanity’s lighted mirror was filled with little stickers, of flowers and hearts, as well as self-adhesive rhinestone ones. The colour range was endless, but one that stood out to Wooyoung was the one in the corner of the mirror that read KYS, all in red. And the table itself was nothing less of a calamity aftermath. There was barely enough room for Yeosang to rest his elbows comfortably while he did his makeup, but he did not seem to be bothered by it. Yeosang had more makeup brushes than Wooyoung had paint ones, and more eyeshadow palettes than he had paint in general. For some reason, it made Wooyoung happy to have witnessed with his own eyes what he saw only in movies.

Yeosang was dabbing silver eyeshadow on his cheek, having already done his eye makeup. Wooyoung was mesmerised. So mesmerised, that he forgot to make his presence known, until Yeosang turned around.

“Am I late?”

“What? No, I’m here to do your body make up. S’gonna take a while.”

“Oh. You scared me.” And he went back to adding more glitter.

Wooyoung was getting his airbrush ready in the meantime.

“Look at you already acting like you’ve been working here for months.” Yeosang said with a thin brush between his lips while waiting for his eyelash to curl. The sight made Wooyoung laugh, and Wooyoung’s laugh nearly made Yeosang stab his eye with the curler.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, newbies usually ask questions. Too many. But you? You’re comfortable.”

“I am, actually. I feel like I’m gonna wake up and all this is gonna be all a dream.”

“Aww,” Yeosang cooed “Is that how much you love it here?”

“Stop fishing for compliments and get changed.”

Yeosang slammed his palm against the vanity table, still with the brush in his mouth. “Would it hurt you if you praised me?”

“But what if there isn’t anything to praise you about?”

Yeosang gasped dramatically and threw his fan brush at Wooyoung, but he calmly caught it between his fingers. Yeosang gave him an impressed look, but it soon died when Wooyoung approached him and kneeled before him. He took the brush from Yeosang’s mouth and placed it in his instead, appearing to ignore the fact that he left him a blushing mess. He evened out the glitter on his face, wiping away the stray particles with a clean make up wipe. “You’re pretty.” And oh, the way he held back a laugh when he saw Yeosang gulping.

“Thank you. You too.”

Wooyoung snorted and flicked Yeosang’s forehead. “Okay, _Roxie Hart_ , that’s enough. Go get changed.” And he stood up and turned around, giving the other one the privacy he needed. Although, knowing him, he probably would not mind being watched. People watched him undress onstage all the time, Wooyoung thought.

Behind him he heard the rustle of clothes falling onto the floor, and soon came his voice singing slowly: “ _The name on everybody's lips_ … _Is gonna be_ …”

“ _Roxie_!” Wooyoung continued, already playing the movie scene in his mind.

“ _The lady raking in the chips_ …”

“ _Is gonna be Roxie_!”

Yeosang giggled and Wooyoung had to think about something very sad and tragic not to burst.

Correct, he thought about his undying love for Kang Yeosang.

“ _I'm gonna be a celebrity! That means somebody, everyone knows they gonna recognise my eyes, my hair, ,my teeth_!” He paused, and Wooyoung knew exactly why. “ _My boobs, my nose_! —Serious question, though, do I give you Roxie Hart vibes?”

“…You sound dumb like her, so I guess.”

“I hope you know I dislike you.”

“I’m gonna turn around if you don’t shut up.”

“You’re gonna like what you see.”

_I know, I know_.

Wooyoung sighed.

“You’re not gonna turn around?”

Wooyoung took his glasses off to cover his face in exasperation. He was laughing, but he was trying not to go all out yet. He turned around in the end, when he heard no more sounds coming from behind him.

He found Yeosang lying upside down on his couch, with his legs crossed against the wall, his head hanging down and his arms spread. His sheer skirt was lifted over his waist, and his legs shone like bronze plates. _What a nymph_. “Looking for something, _daddy_?”

“Yeah, I was looking for something to stab myself in the eye with. Please, you’re exhausting.”

A part of Yeosang felt bad, because that is how he acted with everyone, and they were all used to his every side and quirk and habit. Little did he know that Wooyoung was all up for it. Stimulated by it, even.

He convinced Yeosang to stand up and allowed himself to be sprayed with silver eventually. He was good and docile throughout the process. It made Wooyoung worry, but cautious that he was planning something evil to throw him off.

“I’m nervous, y’know.” Yeosang mumbled, his voice low and raspy. “I always get nervous before this show.”

“Which is why you’re so shameless?”

Yeosang nodded, shyly. “You seem to be handling it well.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“How come?”

Because his heart was soaring. And he was two heartbeats away from saying that too, but this heart of his was not going to resist that long.

“Oh you know, I’ve babysat before.” He said instead, and earned himself a soft punch over the shoulder. He made one more stroke with the airbrush against Yeosang’s leg before closing it and placing it back into its kit.

“For what’s worth, your moon hoop performance was the only one I remembered clearly. And the thought of seeing it again made me look forward to coming here.”

“Really?”

Wooyoung nodded, readjusting Yeosang’s chains and earrings one last time.

“Tell me something nice before I go.”

Wooyoung grabbed his chin, caressing the bit of skin he could reach with his index finger. “Your smile puts all of the toothpaste commercials to shame.”

Yeosang cringed visibly and laughed in a much higher pitch. Wooyoung almost thought that someone else made that sound. Yeosang pushed Wooyoung away after hitting him playfully. Again. People show affection in various ways and that’s okay. “Never say that to me again!”

Wooyoung’s never been that honest his entire life, but maybe there was a better way to say it. Did he regret it? No.

Backstage, Hongjoong sat next to Wooyoung, clapping softly and cheering like an older sibling. Wooyoung was more than enraptured, a celestial body oscillating around the moon. Halfway through his performance, he went back to Yeosang’s room to prepare his makeup removers and towels, although no one asked him to do so.

When all the performances ended, he took the initiative to wait for the guests at the front door and wish them good bye and a good night. Yunho was more than impressed with his efforts. Wooyoung even heard him ask Mingi if they can adopt him. Mingi said no because ‘Wooyoung’s heart belongs somewhere else’. Wooyoung realised that Mingi had a death wish.

After everyone left, Wooyoung helped out with clearing the tables and gathering up the chairs while the barmen were busy counting money and doing paperwork. He was at the sink, cleaning glasses when he heard a pair of thin heels coming down the stairs. He would recognise that pace tempo anywhere.

“Hongjoong hyung, thank you.” Yeosang said. He was unusually cheerful.

“For what?”

“For preparing my stuff?”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Oh.” 

And although Wooyoung’s back was turned to them, he felt at least two pairs of eyes on him, one warmer than the other.

That night, he left work and went to bed with a smile on.

*

The next working days have been uneventful. Wooyoung spent more time with Hongjoong than anyone else. The dancers were busy rehearsing and choreographing. Wooyoung was busy preparing Yeosang’s fibre optic costume. All he exchanged with Yeosang were some hand waves and glares and winks. Wooyoung was the one who winked and Yeosang was the one who tripped against the stairs, to be more specific. That was the best thing to ever happen to Wooyoung.

The other day, he’s had enough.

He slammed the door shot and dropped his bag on the floor, staring into the void, blurry through the lenses of his glasses. San heard him, but only when he saw him not moving, he went to check on him. And he stared at his roommate, face blank and torn, eyes devoid of any emotion, facial muscles relaxed. Wooyoung looked similar to when he did when he was exhausted even after two energy drinks. Actually, he looked like what a charging phone would if it was human. And San found it funny, although he did not know what procedure he should prepare for. Grab the ice cream or the incense? Play _Moulin Rouge_ or _Hairspray_?

“Are you o-”

“The way my heart is betraying me!” Wooyoung nearly wailed, dropping to his knees.

San sighed and joined Wooyoung on the floor.

“I need a list of epithets to describe him. I hate it! I had to measure him today. And when he left I literally asked Hongjoong to hold me because I was about to lose it. And then…And then he came back! He came back because he forgot to say thank you! I was minding my own business in the workshop, and then the door opens again, and he poked his head in and he smiled and said ‘I’m sorry I forgot to tell you how much I appreciate your hard work’. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t expecting him to smile! Sannie, I want my old life back!”

“‘… _There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad_.’” San quoted.

Wooyoung looked up with a puzzled look in his eyes. “The Iliad?”

“The Iliad…You know, I waited for you to come home so you can tell me how work was…And here I am, watching the decline of my own friend. I can hear your soul shattering from here. Actually, no, it sounds more like a crackle.”

“It is crackling.”

“…What do you need?”

“…Chocolate. And biscuits. But like melt the chocolate and dip the biscuits in. Half the biscuit though, not the whole thing”

“You’ve never been so specific. Would you like to write a will?”

“Yes, I give all of my works to Jeong Yunho, and my heart and soul to Kang Yeosang.”

“Fuck do I get?”

“You get this middle finger. Now please hold me before the rest of me starts crackling too.”

*

Hairspray was the chosen musical for that night. Wooyoung sat with the pizza box on his lap, and San was lying on the couch, with the box over his stomach. They were both on their phones, equally disappointed that there was nothing to share.

“We took the subway together.”

“That’s a crucial detail, when were you gonna tell me about it?”

“We literally just talked about the weather. He was like ‘It’s a bit cold, isn’t it’ and I looked at him like ‘are you fucking serious’, but I ended up saying ‘Do you want my jacket’.”

“And he said no.”

“Yeah, obviously. But he was really polite about it. Matter of fact, it wasn’t even cold.”

“Dude, he was trying to talk to you. Just because he’s a performer, doesn’t mean he goes around seducing and putting spells and charming people. He’s probably really shy. People like him are rare! People take the weather and mother nature for granted! But him! He’s sensitive!”

“Like a flower.”

“A tiny flower! —Anyway, my point is that talking about the weather can lead to some very philosophical conversations, and you have zero appreciation for it. You disappoint me, dear. All you do is disappoint me.”

“…You’re right. That was mean. I will ask him about the weather next time, and if we don’t end up talking about metaphysical naturalism it will be your fault.”

“I've had enough of you twisting my words.”

“…You were going somewhere with this.”

“Yes, I was trying to segue into telling you that my theory is that you intimidate him.”

“I’m not intimidating though."

“Oh, Wooyoung. Sweet, Wooyoung. You have no idea.”

“I’m intimidating?”

“When you want to be. I start telling myths when things get awkward. I did this with Jongho last time I walked him home. He was sad, and I told him about how Apollo wrote poetry on Hyacinthus’ petals when he became a flower. Most myths are sad, but it makes people think about things. It also eases them into a conversation.”

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you told him more poetry than myths when you walked him home.”

San’s lips arched into a timid smile. “It’s nice to have someone who looks at you like they’d be willing to give you the moon. That’s all. Jongho and I are at the Time’s feet now.”

Neither of them would have ever imagined they’d fall in love around the same time. A month back they’d rate boys’ profiles, they’d crash into any dorm parties there were. Well, San more than Wooyoung, but nonetheless. They found a certain confidence in talking to more boys at the same time, and pulling three all-nighters in a row, and only surviving on power naps. But at present it felt like they had been bestowed a little more common sense, and a voice of reason in the form of a beloved, a treasury with two pairs of warm hands and warmer eyes. Now, their breakfasts and midnight snacks revolved around debating myths and discussing future plays and projects. And love when it got too much.

Wooyoung let his lecturers know that he found a job and that there will be days when he might have to leave earlier, and surprisingly they were more than supportive. They even offered advice on how to improve his designs.

_L’aubade_ became Wooyoung’s safe space too, like Yunho always wanted. Some backup dancers still looked at him as if he was a stranger, and tossed their costumes onto Wooyoung’s pile as if it was a trash can, shouting a ‘Fix this!’ before moving on with their lives. Hongjoong was there to reassure him.

He still watched every show as intensely as he did on his first time there, and no matter how many times he watched Yeosang spinning in his moon-shaped hoop, he’d still find something new. For each performance, he’d pay attention to a different aspect of Yeosang, like how his muscles contracted, or how tightly he grabbed the hoop, or how close he was to falling that one time, but played it off smoothly. He paid attention to his facial expression, the glint in his eyes, the silver shimmer on his cheeks, or sometimes, he’d only look at the ankle bandages underneath his white, sheer leggings. Yeosang was still at the stage where he’d give Wooyoung the politest of bows and thank yous for altering his costume on such a short notice. Wooyoung would always make a joke out of it until Yeosang became shy, but that was his way of making him more comfortable.

He cuffed the bracelets around Yeosang’s arms, little above the elbow, and consciously counted his every inhale and exhale, just so he’d ignore his eyes. “Hey, um, I was wondering,” Yeosang eventually said, “How old are you? I never asked.”

That day, Wooyoung finally managed to convince Hongjoong to go home after working overtime, assuring them repeatedly that he’d leave once he was done. Yunho was downstairs with Mingi, doing the paperwork, along with three other dancers.

“Twenty-one.”

Upstairs, the two were alone.

“Oh. Thought you were older than me.”

“What, you prefer older men?”

Yeosang clenched his jaw and drew his attention somewhere else. “No, I meant it like…You seem really mature. Besides all the joking and stuff.” Before looking back at Wooyoung.

Wooyoung snorted. “Nah, that’s just me trying to impress you guys.” He said with a wink. “You’ll have enough of me soon.”

Yeosang shook his head shyly. “I think you’re fun.”

“You too.”

“I’m really not. Not when I have no role to fill.”

“That’s deep.”

“…I guess.”

And they remained quiet for the rest of the session. Just a few awkward glances and smiles at each other in between measurements. Yeosang had no performances that day, which explained his shyness. He was no fun, but he was cute.

They had been talking. Somehow. Nothing of substance. Just small talk and ‘surface conversation’. Wooyoung learned that Yeosang never attended University, and that the topic of education was a sensitive one for him.

That was one thing. 

The other thing he learned was that Yeosang could became quite difficult to deal with when he was stressed because of a performance he was not comfortable with. In other words, provocative ones. Yunho was more than used to it and enjoyed treating Yeosang like a baby to annoy him even more. Wooyoung did not think that any of that was real, until he saw Yeosang frowning at Yunho as if he murdered his entire family, and stomping his foot like a spoiled brat, and purposely slamming his heels against the stairs as he made his way upstairs. Yunho was the only one who found it funny. Wooyoung was fascinated, and when he headed upstairs, he did not expect to be cheered on like he was about to go to war.

He knocked at Yeosang’s door and allowed himself in, with an already planned excuse that he came to pick the costume up, but Yeosang was still wearing it. He slammed his fist against the vanity and snapped his eyes towards Wooyoung. “Can I help you?”

Wooyoung smiled, even wider when he saw how much it angered Yeosang. “Well I’m supposed to have a look at your costume before going home.”

“And you couldn’t have waited until I was done?”

Wooyoung sighed, taking a makeup wipe and sitting down on his knees before Yeosang. “Shh, it’s okay, no need to act like a brat.” He murmured, gently swiping the makeup wipe across Yeosang’s lips. “Everything’s okay. You’re tired.”

And just like that, Yeosang was back to being docile. The way he looked at him still burned Wooyoung, like wrapping your hand around a lit match in order to put it out. He saw his hand shaking in frustration. Wooyoung took that as a sign of another wave of aggression coming his way, but he quickly took a new makeup wipe and started cleaning his fingers and knuckles.

It went on like that for the next minutes, with Wooyoung tending to the part of Yeosang’s body where he showed most anger in. His shoulder, his clenched jawline, his eyebrows. When he reached his eyes, Wooyoung rested his palm under Yeosang’s chin, and he felt his head heavier and heavier. “Don’t fall asleep on me now,” He said, not expecting to wake the other one up. “You’re okay. There’s no one here.” He reassured him, tossing the tissue away. “…The rest is up to you. I’ll see you downstairs.” He gave him a playful smile and ruffled his hair, watching how glitters fell down.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you. Or to snap like that.”

Wooyoung considered himself a genius for understanding Yeosang so quickly. How his bratty behaviour, no matter how fragile, was just his way of appearing like he had everything under his control. And how he held this entire side of him within his grasp so firmly, that he knew when to cross the line. Yeosang might have had snow diamonds in the rough when it came to his charm, but the ones that shone brightly, he knew exactly how to exploit to make people find him endearing. And that was only one of the many things Wooyoung liked about him.

“Dude, I was joking. It’s fine.”

“No, really. I should have thought about it. I didn’t mean to sound like a brat. I’m sorry.”

And bless him, he really was.

They did not exchange another word while walking to the station, but Wooyoung’s heart flourished at the way Yeosang would follow him everywhere. When he went to check the timetable, when he went to renew his card, and when he went to get himself some Irish coffee for the way. Yeosang followed like a lost puppy, but would never lift his eyes from the ground. He was cute, and there was no funny way to say that.

So he waited. They both stood up on each side of the door. When Yeosang’s station was approaching, Wooyoung removed his headphone and looked at him.

Yeosang stepped out of the train and waved his hand. One second before the doors closed, Wooyoung smiled, cupped one hand around his mouth and said

“You’re cute!"

He was never going to forget the way he made Yeosang trip. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the pronouns thing. I did ask one of my closest friend who is part of the community if it's okay to ask about pronouns beforehand. Wooyoung's intention was not to disrespect anyone, not even indirectly, and within this context, I was told that what he did was fine. I would not have written about it otherwise.


	3. Roses For Those Who Fear Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He allowed his exhaustion to speak for him. Glasses were made to conceal dark circles anyway."

“Are you home now?” Wooyoung asked, with the headphone cable in his mouth. His hands were busy typing.

“No,” San said. Wooyoung did not miss his voice sounding so lifeless.

“And are you going to go home soon?”

“No. I’m gonna start crying if I go. Again.”

“Do you wanna come here, then?”

“I’m gonna kill some time here. Write some stuff. Being sad helps. You get stuff done easier.”

“Yeah, but that shouldn’t be a reason for you to be sad.”

There were a few seconds of silence. Wooyoung imagined San sitting by the window, gazing at the moths gathering around the lights outside. He hardly looked at the moon when he was sad. After those moments of them not exchanging a word, Wooyoung wrote two extra sentences, but stopped in mid-word when he heard San sniffling. “He’s gonna leave me…” He mumbled. He might have as well tossed Wooyoung through the window and leave him there to bleed slowly.

“San, I’ll come there, I swear.”

“No. No, it’s okay, I’m just…I don’t know. A lot happened. And there’a a lot of work too, and there are times when I can’t pick up his calls and-”

“Call him.”

“Are you dumb?”

“Call him now. Hang up with me and call Jongho. There’s nothing wrong with that. Be like ‘Dude, I’m having a shit time, I’m all alone in the library and this moth reminded me of how drawn I am to you.”

“I’m gonna cry for real, stop!”

“San, I’m not joking! Call him and do your work while on the phone with him. I bet you any money he’s doing homework while crying over you too. Please. I bet you both forgot to water your hyacinth today.”

“I can’t, I’m not that brave. I can’t do it.”

“You are brave. You are braver than me.”

He heard San inhaling deeply. Chances that he was smiling were pretty high.

“I’ll make you a deal…I’ll call Jongho, but only if-”

“Please don’t, I’m begging.”

“-if you tell Yeosang-”

“No!”

“Then I’m not calling him!”

“Fine, then suffer!”

“Wooyoung…”

“…Listen, I don’t want this to be part of a deal. I’m not ready to tell him. I wanna tell him because I want to get rid of it, but I can’t yet. I’ve an interactive poster and a presentation to finish, and I want to get these done, because if I don’t, I’ll get distracted. Then…I’ll have some time to think. And I’ll consider it. I promise. I’ll do anything else.”

“…All right then, message him something nice.”

“…Okay. Okay, that’s doable. Now go call Jongho.”

San made a distressed sound similar to screaming into a pillow and hung up. A few moments later, Wooyoung received a screenshot from him. A picture of the two FaceTiming. Jongho was indeed studying, with three opened notebooks, and an energy drink on his desk. Wooyoung took a deep breath and opened his messaging app.

[Me]

22:03

Sorry I didn’t see you yesterday

I’m sure you did really well, take care :)

[Kang Yeosang]

22:10

I was very sad I didn’t see you there.

I had to remove my makeup by myself. ;(

[Me]

22:14

How tragic.

[Kang Yeosang]

22:18

Also. I always do well. Thank you for noticing.

Wooyoung groaned and shoved his phone back in his hoodie pocket. “…This fucking prick…”

Downstairs, Wooyoung heard the sound of a piano. He didn’t know if it was playing through the overhead speakers, or if someone was playing the real thing. But then, he recognised the riff as a part of a piece that Hongjoong played before, and Wooyoung immediately went to see them play.

At the VIP table for two sat a blond man with a silver cigarette holder between his fingers. Smoke was floating over his face, almost embracing it. A black feather boa was resting against his elbows, the puffs bouncing up and down with each rhythmical tap of his heels against the floor. He felt the music as if it was his unnamed sense, as if the piano piece was dedicated to no one else, but him. However, he could not take his eyes off Hongjoong’s fingers, how they slammed the keys and lifted them gently, just to slam them again, and at their lips, how confidently they smiled.

His name was Park Seonghwa, and it came to no surprise to anyone that he had a soft spot for Hongjoong. Everyone in the club knew, besides Hongjoong themselves. The pianist was in constant denial, that someone as ethereal, seductive, hot as Seonghwa would ever look at them. When Seonghwa would walk into the club, he would always ask about Hongjoong, even before saying hello. And Hongjoong was most of the time upstairs working on Seonghwa’s costume.

That day he were blessed enough to have to perform together with them. He was to sit on top of the piano and sing his part while Hongjoong played for him. The duet was Yunho’s idea, and once again, everyone but Hongjoong knew.

Within the walls of L’aubade, Yunho was known as a cupid. No, not Eros, or the Roman equivalent. But the modern version of him, the baby angel with heart arrows. He had a record of over ten couples that have gotten together thanks to him. He has been trying with these two for over two months, and this duet was the most he could do, as a result of him and Mingi watching ‘Pretty Woman’.

Hongjoong was not aware of Seonghwa’s presence, which is why they played so fiercely.

In their mind, they were somewhere like the Laura Turner Concert Hall at the Schermerhorn Symphony Centre, playing a grand piano in their gold embroidered tuxedo, and somehow they were allowed to smoke during their performance, bob their head to the rhythm and grin as if they were drunk.

When the piece ended, Hongjoong took their hat off to rearrange their hair. They pulled out their cigarette pack from their back pocket and as they lifted their head, they were met with the stunning view that was Park Seonghwa, dropping the cigar from in between their fingers. They saw Seonghwa placing his cigarette holder on the table and placing a new one between his lips. He stood up and made his way on stage. Hongjoong fumbled around, picking the cigarette up, fixing their hat, everything just to stop their cheeks from catching fire. Seonghwa towered before them as he took a drag from his cigarette before squeezing Hongjoong’s cheeks and pushing the cigar past their lips. In this type of situation, Hongjoong’s only refuge was Wooyoung. But unfortunately, Hongjoong was cornered and unable to ring the alarm. Seonghwa’s leather pants shone in the chandelier light as he took a seat on top of the piano, one leg over the other. “Shall we practice?”

Hongjoong nodded, too busy indirectly kissing Seonghwa through the cigarette. They puffed out the smoke, and looked through the music sheets for the right one. 

The song was soft, romantic, but Seonghwa’s voice made it sound more than erotic. The long vowels at the end of the words came out in the form of soft moans, and Hongjoong saw him touching his neck and leaning his head back with the corner of their eyes. The bridge of the song was even slower, and with the amount of times Hongjoong practiced the song, they could play it with their eyes closed. But they made the capital mistake of looking up from their keys and into Seonghwa’s glowing eyes, and at the smirk on his lips. Seonghwa saw their stare stable, so he reached to touch Hongjoong’s cheek as he sung his part. All part of the performance.

But Hongjoong, bless their little soul, pressed the wrong key.

“I’m sorry!” They stammered, wiping their hands against their sides. They scratched the back of their neck, trying to get their mouth to open again to speak.

Seonghwa felt guilty, but that was not the right time or place to apologise, so he gave Hongjoong an understanding smile, waiting for them to pull themselves back together.

“I’ll forgive you if you take me out to dinner.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes snapped back up. “Wh-What?”

“You worry me, so I figured we should talk over some wine. Maybe I could help you out.”

Maybe Hongjoong was already panicking, and they thought everything was planned, that the world was suddenly messing with them and their inability to perceive romance like a normal human.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to forgive me.” Hongjoong said in the most humouristic way they could. It made Seonghwa laugh, so they considered it a win.

“I forgive you anyway. I will also pick you up at nine.”

Wooyoung watched it all happen, regretting that there was no way to turn the volume up or bring snacks without making it awkward. He loved the interaction. He loved Hongjoong, although he wanted to slap some sense into them. Seonghwa was too good for Hongjoong. Which was perfect, because Hongjoong deserved ‘too good’.

“Hey there,” Yeosang said, out of nowhere, nearly making Wooyoung’s knees buckle.

He bumped his elbow against Wooyoung’s as he leaned against the rail as well. In retaliation, Wooyoung bumped his head against Yeosang’s. Affectionately. “What are these two doing, pining over each other like there’s no tomorrow?”

“I know, it’s disgusting.” Yeosang agreed, yet he was giving the two heart eyes.

“Yeah. Makes me sick.”

“…But they’re cute.”

“Yeah they are.”

Yeosang gave Wooyoung a rather cute glare. Cute, in its purest form. Cute, like a duckling, or a baby deer, or anything fluffy that would trigger someone’s aggressive side and make them want to punch a wall. It was uncharacteristic of Yeosang, and this made Wooyoung panic.

“You know who else would be cute?”

Wooyoung grabbed the rail tighter, his grip strong enough to mold the steel. “Who?”

“You. Putting my make up on. Very adorable. Eleven out of ten.”

Wooyoung heaved out a heavy sigh and tossed his head back. “I’m giving you three seconds to run before I spank you.”

“Oh, my. Not beating around the bush anymore, I see.”

“Three!” 

“Wait, no!”

“Two!”

Yeosang started running towards his changing room, and Wooyoung chased him right after, grabbed his hand and swept him into his arms. Yeosang looped his arms around Wooyoung’s neck for security, because he knew he’d be the kind to drop him. “Fuck, you’re heavy.” Wooyoung complained, opening the door with his elbow.

“Or maybe you’re too weak.” 

Yeosang had no idea why he provoked Wooyoung like that, since it was obvious he was not going to put him down gently. He carried him in front of the couch and tossed him over the cushions as gently as throwing your opponent down at the end of a wrestling match. Or maybe a little gentler than that. But Yeosang dragged him down with him, because only they knew how much they loved making each other suffer.

Wooyoung landed over him, with his knee in between Yeosang’s thighs.

They had about two seconds of silence, taking in the other’s face from a new angle they haven’t seen each other before. Yeosang untangled his arms from around Wooyoung, dropping them down in an almost apologetic way. Wooyoung raised his hand with the intention to touch Yeosang’s face, but the flush in his cheeks made him rethink his decision. There was not enough time to figure out if Yeosang’s cheeks were red as a response to heat, or out of shame. Or something else he couldn’t put his finger on. So instead of touching him anywhere on his skin, he used his free hand to cover Yeosang up, until there was nothing left of the red lace bodysuit he was wearing underneath to see.

Wooyoung sat up and did not spare him another glance. “Put your costume on.”

Yeosang nodded, not trying to fight back. Wooyoung turned around, and pulled a glasses wipe from his pocket to clean his lenses.

“Hey, ugh,” Yeosang stuttered, “I know we tease and bicker a lot, but if you ever want to talk about something…I’ll listen to you.”

“What makes you think I have something going on?”

“I don’t know. This is the vibe I’m getting from you. I’m not saying that, ugh, I’ll be able to help you because I can barely help myself sometimes, but, you know, maybe it- it helps talking to someone and maybe, I don’t know…Where was I going with this…”

“I’m okay. Don’t worry. But thanks for the offer, you’re a cutie.”

Yeosang hummed, almost unappreciative. Wooyoung did spend some time thinking if he had any problems that were not related to Uni stress or Yeosang. So, stress in general. And there was nothing. He was a simple man living the simple student life. With a lot of inner drama.

“I just realised. You weren’t supposed to be at work today.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. San’s not home, so I got bored. I was working, and then I heard hyung playing the piano.”

“So why are you here, then?”

“Because you asked me to. Don’t even think about apologising.”

Wooyoung tilted his head to look out the window, but as it was cracked open, he could see Yeosang’s reflection in the glass. His bare chest, his thin figure, the tips of his hair brushing against his shoulders. He instantly lowered his chin and closed his eyes.

“You know,” Yeosang said in a heavy tone. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how unusual this is. You and I, I mean.”

Wooyoung’s eyes shot open, and he never felt more grateful that he was not facing Yeosang. “What?”

“How ever since you came here, no one else has been doing my body make up. How no one else was here, just…waiting for me to put my costume on while talking to me. It feels nice. It’s like having someone to encourage you, but we just talk about anything. Anything at all. And I don’t feel so nervous anymore.” Wooyoung noticed how, towards the end of the last sentence, Yeosang’s voice became quieter. Shyer. “I guess I’m trying to, ugh, tell you that I appreciate you. A lot. And. Thank you. For putting up with me.”

Wooyoung spun the ring around his finger, feeling as his heart and brain and every other organ that stored emotion drained of everything, just to make room for another influx of images, words, feelings, that he kept for Yeosang. Love in its most primordial state.

“Have you changed?”

“Yeah.”

A love that stored itself in the marrow of Wooyoung’s bones, the nerves of his muscles, the fluid in his spine, and in his optic nerve. Places where he would have to wreck himself to find.

He assembled the airbrush and mixed the pigments together until he was happy with the shade and the amount of gold.

“I’ve never thought of this as me putting up with you. I never found you annoying. Or exhausting…I don’t think there’s ever been a day when I wasn’t happy to see you. And I’ve always felt like the time I spent with you was something out of a movie, like everything was intentionally placed where it was placed, and what we said was scripted. Like everything had a symbol. And I don’t think there’s been a second where I haven’t thought about how you read my mind…and I read yours.”

“I felt that too. How you always had the right answer for everything I said…I’ve always wanted to have someone like that.”

Wooyoung touched Yeosang’s chin, tilting it to the right, as he started applying the makeup on him. 

In that moment, as much as time is equally generous with everyone, he felt like he was given ten extra seconds just for himself. To think, to stare, to touch.

His finger brushed along Yeosang’s jaw, and his eyes were on the chain of his earrings.

“Yeah. Me too.”

But then, Yeosang looked away from him, almost as if he knew. Almost as if he was going to break into a smile if he kept looking. But he was the one who placed his hand into Wooyoung’s as he was spraying gold on his arm, or the one who brushed his ankle against Wooyoung’s hip as he moved lower. All of this while his chest was heaving with so much anxiety, that Wooyoung had tostep away from him. And the speed Yeosang drew his leg back with, almost embarrassed, sent Wooyoung mixed signals. 

“Wooyoungie!” They both startled at Hongjoong’s distressed call.

Wooyoung rushed to the door to see the blushing mess that was Hongjoong wrapping both their legs and arms around Wooyoung, making him lose his balance. “I can’t do this, Woo, I can’t! He’s too pretty! And I got the key wrong! I practiced it more often than he practiced his part and I still fucked up!”

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“It’s not!”

“Did he reproach you or what?”

“He was really sweet and charming and soft and understanding and delicate and gentle and he said I should take him out to dinner if I’m really sorry.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said ‘I’m not sorry at all then’. But he laughed! He laughed and said ‘Okay I’ll pick you up-’…Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, I forgot when. He said…He said ‘I’ll pick you up at’…At what?! Did he even say when?”

“Hyung,” Yeosang said, and the other two turned to him “Why do you keep running away from him? He likes you. And you like him too.”

“Oh, this is big coming from The Densest of the Densest, the King of Density, Kang Yeosang.”

“This has nothing to do with me being dense! I’m just…not blind. You like him. You’re in love with him.”

“Look at me!”

“I am. All I see is a cutie.”

“He’s a ten and I’m a minus five!”

Wooyoung cleared his throat. “I can’t tell if you’re referring to height or not.”

“I was not! Stop being mean!” They attempted to leave, but Wooyoung effortlessly picked them up by their waist and tossed their tiny body next to Yeosang. 

“Listen to me. Love is like running late for something, and as you approach the bus, you see that one angry bus driver who takes pleasure in closing the doors and driving off although he sees you rushing. Love is there, at a certain time, but it’s not gonna be there forever just because you’re looking like a wholeass snack. Wanna know why? Because you find love in people. Love is not divine. Love is the most human thing. Love, in your case, is Seonghwa hyung. This is real life, this isn’t some Disney movie. Although you pretty much had your musical number just now, but anyway. He’s not gonna be there forever…You’re not a minus five. He’s not a ten. The reason why you love each other is because you are both the same number. Hyung, listen to me, there is not a single person in this club who would not date you. I would date you. Yeosang would date you.” And Yeosang nodded way too cheerfully. “Yunho said he’d date you if he wasn’t married. I saw Mingi checking you out the other day. And it’s perfectly fine if Seonghwa hyung makes you all flustered. I make Yeosang flustered all the time, but that’s because I love seeing him suffer.” To which Yeosang kicked Wooyoung in the knee and Wooyoung pinched Yeosang’s shin so hard that he yelped in pain. “Anyway. You’re great. And you deserve him.”

The room fell quiet after Wooyoung’s speech. And for a good reason.

Clocks stopped ticking and the clouds ceased floating, long enough for this new form of understanding to fall onto their shoulders.

In that moment, with the beat of the first second, two people in that room rose in love. The third one fell.

*

Wooyoung was checking the schedule Yunho made for next week when he heard rumours about Yeosang being difficult again. He smiled to himself, ready to tackle the situation in a funny way, until he remembered, for the tenth time that day, that one of the numbers for that night was a burlesque one. 

His mind started functioning like a defence mechanism, purposely storing recent memories all the way in the back, mingling them along with the ones he was trying to forget. He went to the costume room in the back, searching for the one tagged with Yeosang’s name, while his mind was trying to convince him that he suddenly can’t read. His palm started sweating around the hanger, almost dropping it twice while carrying it back.

A burlesque striptease number was something he never asked for. He did not ask for many things in life, but this one right here, was at the top of the list. He laid the costume on the table, spreading out all of its pieces. The black, lace straps that would go across his chest, just like a harness, the one that would go right underneath his corset, the satin skirt, short in the front and much longer in the back, and a set of red feathers that would decorate his shoulder. The corset was one of Hongjoong’s finest pieces: gem studded, but soft at the touch in between, with black flower embroidery patches sticking out from underneath the lacing. He remembered Hongjoong saying that they had so much fun making the piece, that they considered gifting it to Yeosang.

He was helping a male dancer adjust the waistband of his leggings with the thin, leather belt in between his teeth. He felt the guy giving him looks, and he liked to believe that him biting his lip was just his imagination, but it turned out to be real when he said “You look good down there.” To which Wooyoung laughed and slapped his hip. “You should see me doing the real thing. Turn around.” And the guy leaned over the table, supporting himself on his arms, and slightly sticking his ass out in a suggestive way. Wooyoung rolled his eyes and played along. He secured the belt with a lobster claw clasp, as it tended to fall off, and called it a day.

When the door creaked quietly, and then opened all the way, Wooyoung instantly knew it was Yeosang. And he was never going to forget how all the blood drained from his face at the sight. He grabbed the door handle tight in his hand as if to check if what he was seeing was real. “Ugh, hi?” He said, almost offended.

“Hey. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Yeosang didn’t spare the other guy another glare, and went to sit on Hongjoong’s office chair, with both his legs and arms crossed.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while.” The dancer said, and Wooyoung had to bite his tongue not to laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Didn’t know I have a stalker.” He tapped his arm to signal him that he was done.

This guy was a lot to take in. His toned muscles and thick thighs, that made Wooyoung think about how unlucky the guy who’s gonna blow him will be, getting his head crushed like a watermelon. He was tall, and his voice was deeper than the ocean. He was the kind of guy who’d post a picture of himself half naked on Instagram, with a verse from the bible as caption. Or he’d take a mirror selfie right after working out, with the caption ‘Baby I wanna be your bad habit’. Unfortunately, all the things this guy was were on Wooyoung’s list of ‘no-nos’.

“I’ll make you a deal,” He said, and Wooyoung was ready to put the fire out. A fire that sat in Hongjoong’s chair. He already smelled the smoke. “If I do a good job, you’ll take me out on a date.”

Wooyoung arched his eyebrow, calculating his answers. “I’ll wait for you to impress me first. We’ll talk after.”

He blew Wooyoung a kiss and he was off.

“So that’s why I didn’t see you in my room.” Yeosang said, the same second the door closed.

Wooyoung walked over to him and squeezed his cheeks in between his thumb and index finger. “I’m not your personal assistant, you brat, I have a job to do.” And let him go.

Yeosang rubbed his cheeks to elevate the pain. “Well you might as well be.”

Wooyoung sighed in a way that he only did in front of Yeosang. It was a sigh of exhaustion, frustration, and love. “So you wanna get changed?”

“In my room.”

Yeosang picked up his straps and feathers and went on ahead. He appeared to have moved on from asking Wooyoung to turn around. He nearly dropped what he was holding when he saw him pulling his shirt over his head, leaning over to pick his straps up. He gave Wooyoung indications on how to secure them, but sadly he failed to listen.

The said straps played the same role as nipple covers, but for some reason Yeosang hated those, so he opted for something that was going to emanate the same amount of tease. Next came the skirt, also made out of one long piece, meant to come in two layers, made to be taken off as gracefully as a cape.

“You’re not going on a date with him, right?” 

Wooyoung was more than amused, but was even more impressed by how carefully Yeosang placed the negation there.

“Nah, I wouldn’t want my or his house burning the next day.”

“…Why would your houses burn?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Natural causes.”

Yeosang paused, tilting his head and looking to his right, then scrunching his nose. He was trying too hard to understand. “Oh!” Until he did. “Bold of you to assume I’ll burn your house down when I can burn you personally.”

“You burn me everyday, sugar, but I’m still here. Alive and kicking.—How tight do you want this corset?”

“It’ll come off anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” Wooyoung redid the lacing in the back, tight enough for one finger to fit through. Whatever Yeosang was about to do on that stage, Wooyoung was not ready. “You know, you should call me sugar more often. I like it. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t fit you. Especially now. You’re salty more than anything.”

Yeosang tossed his head back and made a sound similar to a frustrated sob. “Once. All I ask is for you to be nice to me once.”

“I was nice to you when I called you sugar. Turn around.”

And for whatever reason, while Wooyoung was in his costume designer mindset, Yeosang was during the faze where he wanted to fish for compliments. So he stared. At Wooyoung’s lips, cupid’s bow, piercings, eyes. The room was filled with his perfume, soft and floral, but with a sour hint. Wooyoung felt like any moment the doors would lock by themselves from the outside, and he would find himself pinned to the wall. But all that came his way in the form of Yeosang tucking Wooyoung’s hair away from his face.

“Can you take it from here?” He asked, suddenly, when his lungs couldn’t take it anymore, and the flush to his cheeks would extend to his neck.

“No.” Yeosang said, pointing at the skirt with his eyes. “Put my skirt on?”

Wooyoung wished death upon himself and got his job done. His work mindset was long gone.

“Tell me I look pretty?”

Yeosang conveniently asked when Wooyoung was down on his knees before him securing the skirt little underneath the corset.

“I’m already on my knees for you, what more do you want?”

“You. To compliment me before I go.”

Wooyoung sighed, and once he was back up, he lifted Yeosang’s chin, his eyes boring into his, as his thumb dragged across his lower lip. Red and hot and smooth. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you brat.” And as he lifted his thumb, he made sure to show Yeosang the red stain on the tip of it.

While Yeosang’s chest was cooling down, and as he was trying to drag himself back from his reverie, Wooyoung walked towards the door, and before he walked out, he stared into Yeosang’s eyes and kissed the red on his thumb.

Two can play this game, he wanted to say, but kept this one rule to himself.

The music played loud, with an erotic type of intensity, but not loud enough to cover the drumming in Wooyoung’s ears. He was still upstairs, watching the stage from the safest angle. 

As soon as Yeosang walked out, the music playing in Wooyoung’s ears fell low, almost inaudible, and all he could hear was the precise tap of his heels as he made his way to the centre. Right over the spotlight, there was a plush red chair. He sat down, with his legs slightly parted and his back arched. Two other boys dressed in red lace bodysuits crawled on their palms and knees to him, and Wooyoung watched in horror as they started licking their way up to Yeosang’s outer thighs, and from there, dragging his fishnets down with their teeth. They worked the belts from his sandals open with their mouths, until they ridded them of everything. He sunk his hands in both their hairs and pulled harshly, until they both opened their mouth wide with a moan.

The music seemed to change in order to accommodate Yeosang’s movements. Slow when he was giving the audience a teasing look over his shoulders as he raised his skirt up, only to drop it back, or back to its faster tempo, when he would drag his gloves off with his teeth and toss it off stage. The two boys in lace suits were now in the back, still on their knees, with the stockings hanging from their teeth. Wooyoung swallowed hard when Yeosang began untying the lacing at the back of his corset. The one he spent so long in closing, as if Yeosang was only for other men to see, and not for him. Wooyoung’s job was to dress him, and for others to undress him with their eyes. His glasses were getting foggy, but maybe even that was a sign.

Ribbons would fly off Yeosang’s back to the rhythm of the music, revealing more skin the louder the piano and saxophone were getting. Soft drums beat at the every tap of his heel, and there was no angle in which the gloss on his lips wasn’t blinding. He grabbed the dancing pole, with one gentle finger landing one at a time, until his grasp was firm enough. With one leg hooked around the pole, he spun in the air once, his back in a perfect arch, and when he gathered himself all around the pole, he let his skirt fall down, leaning his right leg in a straight line for the fabric to slide down.

“He’s kind of hot, huh. Look at how well he’s doing.” Hongjoong’s voice came from Wooyoung didn’t even know where. His head was clouded. Misty. Foggy. Overcast with smoke. All of those, in that order. He felt Hongjoong wrapping a reassuring arm over his shoulders. Coincidentally, right when Yeosang seemed to have lost his corset.

And his shame was hanging by two more pieces of fabric. His eyes were ecstatic and of an obscene kind of calm, and his lips were twisted in a smirk.

He swept his hair back and his eyes fell on Wooyoung.

And from there, only on him. When he spun on the dancing pole, when he swayed his hips, when he bent over to seemingly pick the skirt back up. His cheeks were-

“Not to sound obscene,” Hongjoong began, and Wooyoung leaned over to hear them better. “But that’s how you look at someone when you fuck them.”

Wooyoung grasped the rail enough for the sweat in his palms to rust the metal, and completely closed his airways, because he knew himself to well. He knew he was one break away from sighing, or worse. Whimpering. The heat in his cheeks was about to melt his skin off, and he liked to believe that his jeans were not so tight when he left home.

Yeosang wrapped one naked leg around the pole, then the opposite hand, sliding it down all the way to his hips, and when he turned a little more to the side, enough to conceal his shame, he pushed the band of his lace underwear little past his hipbone, barely containing a smile when the audience went insane. Mostly male shouts.

But all Wooyoung saw was the spit that shot out of their mouths as they whistled, the buttons from their white shirts opened down to their stomach, their ties tossed on the table. Opened zippers, and one older dude in particular shoving his hand down his pants.

Wooyoung’s seen enough. “I’m done.” He whispered to himself, and went back to the only safe space he had in that club. But not before paying a short visit to the bathroom.

Wooyoung felt his presence as he was coming up the stairs. He was very likely smiling so cheerfully, walking up on his tippy-toes, with the same satin robe on. Wooyoung was not ready. He was twice as less ready when his instincts seemed to be correct once again. Yeosang opened the door quietly, poked his head in, then opened it all the way and stormed in towards Wooyoung with the same emotional intensity as if he was reunited with him after years. “I thought I’d meet you downstairs. Did you see me? How did I do? I missed Neo-Burlesque so much, it’s been like three months!”

He wore a normal, fluffy bathrobe this time, and his hair was messier than other times. Wooyoung had not looked at him yet, but he sensed Yeosang the same way sculptors sense their finished product. A human body and face envisioned so deeply in his mind. He was a dangerous sight.

“Y-Yeah. It was- It was good. Really good.”

And now Yeosang was probably tilting his head, wondering what to say next. “Is everything okay? Should I leave you alone?”

“No, don’t worry. I’m okay.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Sorry.”

Yeosang shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Wooyoung gathered up the fabrics in an empty storage box, his heart drumming in his throat, and now that they had stopped talking for a while, he realised that a part of him wanted to cry. The corners of his eyes were rimmed with tears, and he blinked aggressively to clear his sight. His head was blank. His means of expression, his emotions, and everything he used to communicate with Yeosang had now dropped to his heart, and his heart was going berserk in his ribcage.

“Usually it’s my job to stutter like that. Not yours.” He felt a smile in Yeosang’s voice.

Once he closed the door behind him, Wooyoung dropped the box to the floor and broke down in tears.

And that cry turned to be an entire breakdown. Over reasons Wooyoung could not understand. He was still in the workshop. There was nothing that stressed him out. The work, or anything related to the club seemed to be a source of stress. His brain felt light in his skull, like it was about to start floating, and numb, like the first second after waking up. His heart, on the other hand, was still raving. His heart was feeding off of that image of Yeosang dropping his corset to the floor.

He turned the AC on and waited until his cheeks would cool down. He shut the voice in his head down and allowed his heart to do whatever she felt right. Whatever was meant to happen, was going to happen.

Loud music was playing from downstairs. The same fusion between old school jazz and R&B. Saxophones, trumpets, and pianos, just one of the few things that were going to bring Wooyoung nightmares for weeks.

He wanted nothing more but to go home alone that night, but unfortunately, no matter how much time he tried to buy himself, cleaning the workshop spotless, resorting the threads, rearranging the stage props, Yeosang was still there, downstairs, waiting for him, idly scrolling on his phone. The way his face sparkled, and the quickness with which he shoved his phone back in his pocket when he saw Wooyoung, broke the latter’s heart for the hundredth time that day.

The main changing room was currently full with stage props and other supplies, as earlier on that day they had received new packages and spent hours organising everything. That day Wooyoung had no choice but to use the sewing machine in the corner of Yeosang’s changing room. He was currently sitting behind the dancer, sewing up one of the other performers’s bralet, before redecorating it with fake, silver coins, to imitate a belly dancer’s outfit. Wooyoung worked best and meticulously when he was tired, so halfway through, he decided to sew everything by hand. And he was relaxed too, until Yeosang sighed loudly, and Wooyoung was made aware of his presence again. He stopped right in time before pricking his finger.

“Is something wrong?” Wooyoung asked, tone calm and collected still. He and Yeosang were, above anything, co-workers.

“Just my face. I look drained of life no matter what I do with it.” Yeosang sounded bitter, like he was seconds away from breaking the mirror and swallowing the shards. And funny enough, he did not seem to be searching for compliments.

“You’ve a nice face. I told you.” Wooyoung raised his eyes and smiled as friendly as possible, but Yeosang was not having it. He met Wooyoung’s eyes for less than a second, looked at him from head to toe, then went back to looking at himself and removing his makeup. “And I’m not just saying that.” He went on, like the rational part of this brain was still trying to make the best of it. He was going to spend a lot of time trying to forget the condescending look Yeosang gave him.

“Thank you.” Yeosang threw his makeup wipe away and picked up another one, removing the foundation from around his jawline and neck, and Wooyoung continued to sew furiously, and even pricking his finger would be less painful than watching Yeosang arching and exposing the column of his neck like flaming garnets. “You look like you want to say something.”

Wooyoung drew the needle out one last time, before sealing everything in, and hanging the bralet on a clothes hanger. “There is something I want to get off my chest, actually, thanks for asking.” He was now standing up. His mind was empty, bittersweet, and euphoric, like minutes after an orgasm, when reality still hasn’t set in. Much like Yeosang’s last performance made him feel.

This was two days later after that happened. The next day, Wooyoung did not go to work. And all it took was a day to learn how to manually handle his brain.

Which lead to this.

He allowed his exhaustion to speak for him. Glasses were made to conceal dark circles anyway.

Yeosang pulled his robe back over his shoulder and faced Wooyoung. “Sure. What’s up?” His expression was hard to read. If Wooyoung were more awake, he would have thought that Yeosang was angry, impatient, like no one was not worth his time. But in all of his tiredness, Yeosang was a mortal about to be given eternal life among the gods. A lot went through Wooyoung’s mind. Yeosang was everything from someone he wanted to step on, to someone whom he wanted to worship. And all this spectrum weighed too heavy than Wooyoung could carry.

“You’re much more than your face.” Wooyoung’s voice was clear, like he was about to recite a poem he had practiced for months. “There’s so much to you. It hurts to see you thinking so little of yourself. It hurts to see you having the impression that you need to fill a role in order ro feel relevant. And it hurts to see how much you try to hide that birthmark and those scars on your jawline.” He paused when he saw Yeosang grab the armrest tighter. “I’m sorry if the way I looked at you made you feel uncomfortable. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean to be creepy. I tried not to be. But my eyes are just drawn to you. Everything you do is so calculated and elegant.” Wooyoung said through a smile. “When you walked in the club the other day, I saw a Velma Kelly walking into the courtroom. Actually, no, scratch that. The way you walk in general. The way you present yourself. It’s so endearing.”

By this point, Yeosang was about to make his mouth bleed. Anything not to smile. Anything not to give a sign of surrendering. Which was strange, because it never took Wooyoung this much to make him smile.

“I see her in you. The way you smile too. And when I saw you on stage there, I saw the whole burlesque unfold before my eyes. The movie, the performance, the Neo-burlesque. All that. It- It was great…You’re great. And I-” Wooyoung’s words melted in the back of his throat, as Yeosang raised from his chair and wrapped the robe around him. He was an arm length away from Wooyoung, but still out of his reach. He was beautiful, even with that grey mascara stain right over his birthmark, even with his red tinted lips, exhausted eyes, and trembling fingers. Yeosang was standing before him in all of his glory, crimson, like a paragon of eros. “I like you. A lot. A bit too much. So, so fucking much.”

Yeosang’s arms tensed around him, and he made a conscious effort to appear unmoved. He smiled gently and placed his hands one over the other. His hair looked longer, soaked with smoke and sweat, almost growing over his ears. Glitter particles here and there as well, but to Wooyoung, they had been carefully placed to look like a crown. When five seconds had passed, and Yeosang said nothing, Wooyoung’s own words started pounding in his head, like drums before an execution ceremony. _I like you. A lot. A bit too much.So, so fucking much._

Yeosang walked towards him, and Wooyoung’s heart grew.

Yeosang walked past him, and with him, he took Wooyoung’s heartbeats and voice.

“Who doesn’t?” He said, and closed the door behind him.

Wooyoung laughed, a palm across his mouth and nose. He took a seat on the red couch before his knees buckled. The room had lost its glow, the lights began to flicker, and the air seemed solid, like it was going to visibly crack like ice if he poked it.

“Who doesn’t…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Woo’s confession scene was the first scene I ever wrote for this, and I shaped the entire fic around it. In fact, I think (I might be wrong) but the first key line I wanted to add was ‘who doesn’t’, because it’s short, but it holds a lot of meaning.


	4. The One Who Swallowed Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yeosang’s mind was like a portal to a realm where paradoxes and riddles and answers and forms of art that the human creative prowess have not yet fathomed lived. Wooyoung considered himself lucky that he was exposed to the smallest percentage of it."

The following day was the most stressful San has ever had to go through. He would mind his own business, but instantly get triggered when someone would even mutter the words ‘who doesn’t’ within hearing range. To Wooyoung, San was everything, and whoever knew their relationship well, knew that San was extremely protective over him. The only one allowed to call Wooyoung out, fight him, scold him, and give him a reality check in the harshest way possible, was San.

Nobody else.

The night when Wooyoung got his heart broken was also a night when San could barely focus on his studies. He messaged Wooyoung like crazy, and even went to the club, which by then was closed. At about four AM, Wooyoung messaged him saying ‘A silver Hyundai, come down quick’. To which San pulled a Sonic the Hedgehog and was already downstairs, one millisecond after Wooyoung hit the send button.

He was in the car with some guy San’s never seen before, but who instantly made every single alarm in his head go off. Wooyoung stormed out of the said car, took San’s hand, and started crying on their way back to their apartment.

It turned out that Wooyoung was in a self destructive mood because of how his last conversation with Yeosang went. He went on a date with a dancer called Heejin, and while San waited for Wooyoung to stop crying, he thought of the worst. Wooyoung didn’t cry often, and when he did, it was only in the form of weeping because of stress, or because of some video of a dog getting adopted. But then, he was properly sobbing, too weak to stand up. San almost cried with him, but he was busy being infuriated with two guys at once.

The date was supposed to consist in dinner somewhere not so fancy, but on their way there, they drove past a nightclub, and Wooyoung, while still blank-headed, agreed to go there instead. Wooyoung drank, while the other guy stuck to soft drinks, they danced together and with other people, he exchanged numbers with some he did not know the names of, and he was sure that he typed his number in wrong. Then Heejin hugged Wooyoung from behind, and even bit his neck, which led to Wooyoung saying that he wants to go home. In the car, he found out that what Heejin wanted wasn’t only a date, and when Wooyoung felt things going downwards, quite literally, he texted San.

Wooyoung, besides being drunk, heartbroken, and panicked, he was safe. In any other circumstance, San would have been disappointed in him, but the fact that he had the power to make at least a rational decision, and ask for help when needed, erased all that. Wooyoung cried for a good half an hour. Then he finally took a seat on the couch instead of the floor, stumbling against his feet twice in the process, and San sat next to him, forcing him to drink water.

“‘Who doesn’t’?!” San shouted from the kitchen, and in the next second, he was back in the living room with a frying pan in his right hand and a spatula in his left. “‘Who doesn’t?!’”

Wooyoung nodded, his brain still levitating within his skull. His eyes were so exhausted, that they forgot to blink.

“He said that? He literally said that?” And he went back to the kitchen and shouted again “What kind of a dickhead-?! Who says that?”

San muttered, then yelled to himself, and in the meantime Wooyoung went to take a shower. He sung to himself and purposely made a lot of noise around him to keep his brain from talking for him. It didn’t work. In his left ear, he heard Heejin complimenting his body and all the bad things he wanted to do to it, and in his right ear he heard Yeosang repeating the same sentence over and over again. He cried for an extra ten minutes, roughly scrubbing the part of his neck where Heejin bit him, until it started stinging. Even then, the feeling had not worn off.

He didn’t look himself in the mirror, or even bother to remove the fog over it.

When he returned to the room, he found the butter cinnamon sticks in his favourite cereal bowl, with two scoops of vanilla ice cream. And cold chocolate milk in his most beloved mug. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure?” San was back at it again with the denial. “Because like, look, Yeosang and I aren’t actually friends. We’re more like pals, buddies, you get it. But he’s a nice guy, really. I know he’s a beast on stage, but deep down he’s really sweet. I really don’t think he’s a bad person, so I’m really confused.”

And he wasn’t alone, but Wooyoung, for one, felt safe in that confusion, because wanting to crawl to out of it meant overthinking. And he felt safe while his brain was numb with this type of confusion.

“People who aren’t afraid of love are the ones who learned from it. You know, artists, poets, monsters, you name it.” San said, wanting to make Wooyoung feel better, but it only made him want to cry again. He didn’t, but held his head up, blinking his tears away.

He was, indeed, not afraid of love.

“I thought I was gonna feel liberated, but I don’t feel liberated, I feel worse. Why did I do that?” He wiped his tears with his sleeve. “San, I-” His voice was broken, like there were heaps of pain in his chest that would not let air flow through. “I feel like I cheated,” He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. “And we’re not even-” Until he cupped both his hands over his lips, breaking into another series of soft sobs and hiccups. “I don’t know why he said that, San, I don’t get it. I know he likes me, but I just-” And San was all over him, kissing his hair, hushing and cooing to him. “I hurt him, and I- I shouldn’t have.”

“… _You_?… _You_ hurt him?”

San kissed his forehead one last time, and while Wooyoung sat there with his eyes stinging with tears, he grabbed his phone and searched for Yeosang’s contact.

[Me]

06:27

What you said was unnecessary. He didn’t deserve that.

He’s crying and he’s blaming himself because of you.

I’m giving you two days to fix this.

San’s tongue was itching to ask him what he wanted to do next, or what was he going to do at work even, but he chose against it, because that would have meant another wave of pressure for him. He continued to hug him instead, pepper kisses on his head, wipe his tears, and every so often whisper reassuring words.

“It’s fine, let’s just laugh it off. I’m good. I’m okay. Everything’s okay. Everything’s…great. The weather’s nice.”

“Weather, huh.”

Wooyoung smiled sorrowfully, and San’s heart shattered. He spent minutes on end watching Wooyoung spiralling live, with nothing good enough to say. Nothing was good enough to distract him. He wasn’t able to finish his cinnamon sticks, the ice cream melted, and his eyes were still bloodshot. 

“I haven’t slept in nineteen hours and counting. And I have an assignment due in two days.”

“Oh, God, please nap.”

“Nope. My mind is running on fumes. Vaping that cookies and cream and vanilla. Life’s great. I have to plan an essay on the _participation mystique_ in relation to ‘The Birth of Tragedy’.”

What Wooyoung and San had big trouble remembering was if they talked about the popup book and the essay in their dreams or not, because the next thing they knew, Shiber was in San’s arms, and San was in Wooyoung’s arms. So still and serene, that you could almost paint them and take your time with it. San woke up three hours later thinking it was three years later, but his head instantly fell back, heavy with sleep.

Wooyoung dreamt that Yeosang had long hair, almost reaching his waist, and he was braiding it. The sky outside was purple, and the clouds had wooden sticks popping out of them, like real cotton candy. And when the Yeosang in the dream tried to step on stage, everything froze beneath his foot, and the stage started shattering. When he called Wooyoung for help, he told him ‘That’s what you did to my heart’. Wooyoung woke up as if from a nightmare, called himself a genius, patted himself on the back, and went back to sleep.

They both woke up at midday.

[Kang Yeosang]

11:48

I will. I’m so sorry.

It became an unwritten house rule that, if neither of them had schedules in the morning, they’d have coffee together. So Wooyoung was at the kitchen table, his ear leaned against the bamboo table mat. He snoozed until San decided that he’d had enough of being alone in his bed.

Yesterday’s memory was a mirage in Wooyoung’s head. A heat haze. Which was fine, because it gave him the impression that whatever happened in that changing room appeared to be drowning. It wasn’t long after the memory reached the bottom of the sea, that Wooyoung heard San’s door creaking open, so he started making the coffee and preparing breakfast.

San looked like he had been the one who got his heart broken. He looked at Wooyoung through tired eyes, and narrowed them as if he looked directly at the sun. “Have you washed up yet?”

Wooyoung shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Nah, woke up like ten minutes ago.”

“Then why are you glowing?”

“I’m what?”

“Yeah. Look at you. You’re…bright. It’s disgusting. I look like I just finished fighting Medusa over the top bunk bed, and then I pulled on one of her snakes, and the snake bit me, and then I turned into Shiber, and I yelled at the real Shiber to turn me back, and then there were people stepping on me, and Medusa was actually my ‘Drama Adaptation’ teacher.”

“Which is, coincidentally, what you dreamt last night.”

“Precisely. All I ask is for my soul to rest, and what do I do? I fight gorgons at six AM.”

“Your soul is ancient and restless.”

“It is. Who knows what wars I fought and lost.”

“Well, until you figure that out, here’s your coffee. What do you want me to make you?”

“A champion, for people to write songs about me, and stories too, one more hyperbolised than the former.”

“…I meant for breakfast.”

“Eggs.”

And he went back to snoozing over the table mat, as Wooyoung made him breakfast.

While these two were at University, they each spent time with their course mates rather than with each other, but San jumped in Wooyoung’s arms whenever he saw him, shouting ‘Soulmate!’ each time. That next week, San was worse than a guard dog. When Wooyoung had to go to work, his anxiety increased tenfold. He had Wooyoung text him almost every hour, asking about both Yeosang and Heejin, and the classic ‘I WILL BEAT THEM UP FOR YOU’ at almost every two hours.

*

Wooyoung would have never thought he’d see the day when he’d enjoy University more than work. The next day after the incident, he barely dragged his feet there, but San radiated so much hope and positivity, that he made it to work safely and in a much better mindset. He was good at pretending he was unapproachable, but he never tested to see how that worked in terms of having a broken heart.

This level of heartbreak was different. He did not have the necessary weapon and equipmentand his skill points were all over the place to face this boss.

It got gradually worse when Hongjoong and Yunho noticed how Wooyoung showed a pained reaction when they mentioned Yeosang in a funny context. He’d usually get flustered and hide his face, or even play along. He would walk into his changing room, do his make up, check his costume before he put it on, and left.

During his and Hongjoong’s lunch break, he confessed what he did once again, accentuating how much he hated himself for what he did, and how childish it was. To Hongjoong, his reaction made perfect sense. “Remember when I came shouting to you for help? I would have literally done the same as you if you weren’t there. But that speech you gave me about love really empowered me.” They said. Wooyoung had completely forgotten about that. Everything that happened before that specific night became a blur. “You did well about Heejin, though. I’m kind of proud of you. He literally flirted with every man here. He put Yunho and Mingi’s relationship in danger, he didn’t respect Yeosang’s boundaries, and told Seonghwa hyung that he and I had a one night stand. We cleared it up in the end, but still, it was very messed up of him to do that.”

That was a piece of information that did not store in Wooyoung’s mind. After Hongjoong said that, he instantly labeled Heejin as a toxic person, and moved on from it. Otherwise his blood pressure would have surged.

It was the end of the week, and they were preparing for a burlesque number with seven dancers. Their costumes were the most intricate Wooyoung’s ever seen. Embroidered corsets and gem-studded undergarments, large sets of puff feathers attached to the back of the corsets and their wrists for them to spread like wings. They all needed to be altered in order to be easier to take off.He ended up thanking Hongjoong for existing once at five seconds. 

“Wooyoung-ah,” Jubilee called him, and immediately hugged him.

“Yeah?”

“Please have fun tonight. You worked so hard. I appreciate you so much.”

Wooyoung beamed, his heart leaping like a bunny. He hugged Jubilee back, although he did not want to cross the line. “I appreciate you too.”

Jubilee cupped Wooyoung’s cheeks and made him look at her. Her smile was motherly. “And I am sure that whatever happened between you two…You can talk it out and resolve it. It hurts to see you like this, knowing how much you used to laugh together last week. But whatever happened, know that nothing is worth not letting the other explain themselves. One is not going to disappear from the other one’s world if you just stop looking at them. Take it from someone who’s been there before…Can you do that for me, love?”

Wooyoung had no other choice, but to nod. He more than agreed with Jubilee, and he knew that was the right thing to do, but the problem with Wooyoung was that he was petty. San made sure to let him know repeatedly. It was that one flaw he did not want to work on.

“…Be the bigger person if you need to.” Jubilee said.

There was a lot to unpack in that sentence. It had a lot of sides, and it took longer to solve than a Rubik’s cube. Jubilee implied that Yeosang needed a little encouragement and more time to explain and to be explained. Everything that Wooyoung took from him.

“He’s older than me.”

Jubilee looked around, then leaned over closer to Wooyoung and said. “And what about it?”

Wooyoung laughed. Fair point. “I’ll try.”

She pressed a red kiss on his forehead and turned around to leave. “Love you, sweetie, please let me know how it goes. I’m here for you. But I must go entertain the men and make my boyfriend jealous now, so…” She flipped her hair and stepped out the door.

Wooyoung locked the door behind him and went to the bathroom to fix his hair. Then he made his way downstairs where all the people were. Jubilee and Mingi were sitting at the VIP table,because she failed to entertain other men and make her boyfriend jealous. They were sitting across from some other men and women in suits. Seonghwa sat with his legs across Hongjoong’s lap and his arms around his neck, and Wooyoung caught him nipping at his earlobe when he did not get the attention he wanted. On the couches in the back, a woman was grinding on and kissing another, two boys were sharing a much intimate moment, and a group of five friends were laughing over their empty shot glasses. The atmosphere made Wooyoung think of San, and he wondered if he stopped coming to the club ever since Jongho barged into his life and demanded all of his attention. Coincidentally, that was when San messaged Wooyoung about whether or not he should say yes to Jongho’s invitation to FaceTime until he falls asleep. His next message was ‘Never mind I said yes because I’m weak’. Wooyoung had his answer. He assured San that he trusts him.

He put his phone back in his pocket and headed towards the bar, his eyes already and slightly unconsciously searching for Yeosang, but he did not seem to be around. He was almost never downstairs on nights when there were no shows.

Wooyoung drank his whiskey slowly, his attention wavering from one man to another. Red tie or red shirt, but never a white robe. He scanned the room slowly, until he found a pair of eyes already on him. The older man approached him with a smirk on his face and took a seat next to Wooyoung. It did not take more than that for him to know that the man was wasted.

“I, just- wow.” The man stuttered “You’re. Like. So pretty. Very, very beautiful.”

“So I was told.” Wooyoung downed his last sips of whiskey and shook his head back to life. 

“Cocky, are we. Can I buy you a drink?”

Wooyoung tilted his head left and right, considering it, careful not to leave the man’s eyes. He loved knowing what other people were thinking just form looking at them.

“You can’t.” The sharpness of Yeosang’s voice made his shoulders startle.

He watched the man place his palms before him in a surrendering manner. Yeosang watched him like a tiger until he was at a safe distance to grab Wooyoung and take him away from there. He tried to resist, but not too much.

“Stay with me.” Yeosang said, softly, with a velvety touch, tones away from sounding like a moan.

“Why?”

“Who was that man? Do you know him?”

Wooyoung arched an eyebrow. He was cold, unimpressed. He left his heart at home.

“Why do you care?”

Yeosang looked at him as if Wooyoung failed to follow the script they’ve been practicing for so long and just now he decided to improvise. He shook his head, more than taken aback by the question. He did care, but then he didn’t, but yet he somehow did.

“Yeosang, what do you want?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want, just don’t go back there.”

“Tell me why.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to see me with someone else? Is that it? You’re just gonna keep being selfish and possessive over someone you pushed away?…It’s not okay what you’re doing. And I mean this in the friendliest way possible.”

“I don’t know how to answer that, please don’t do this to me.” Yeosang pleaded, voice trembling, but with no hint of anger.

His eyes were opened wide and clear, and his words, no matter how vague, were barer than his shoulder. Yeosang paid so much attention in the way Wooyoung looked at him, that he failed to fully cover himself like he always did. Wooyoung’s mistake was to notice this aspect. He bit the inside of his cheek, exhaled sharply, and with a groan “Come here,” he pulled Yeosang in his arms, one around his waist, and his other hand carded through his hair. And if his arms were filled with love like they did the other day, he would not have held him so tightly, to the point where he could cut his breath out. And as they were so closely pressed to each other, Yeosang’s heart beat through Wooyoung’s body, like paces and earthquakes which brought the Earth’s tectonic plates together, and their lungs filled with the same air.

“I still stand by what I told you yesterday,” Wooyoung said, resisting an inhuman urge to push Yeosang away, all the more after he felt him relaxing in his arms. “But I really hate what you’re doing to me now.”

Wooyoung took Yeosang by his wrists, and untangled his arms from around him.

*

San and Wooyoung were by the river, sharing the same headphones. One’s head against the other’s shoulder. It was six in the morning and they were waiting for the sunrise. They held hands to keep each other warm, both equally as thankful that neither felt like talking. There was a lot of pressure in the air around them, but it was not the right time to address it. Wooyoung told San everything that happened as they were walking to the river. He never thought he’d ever see the day when San would not have anything to say, nothing to comment, and no form of advice. He was just as confused. But then Wooyoung urged him to say what’s on his mind, and San only reminded him that he’s as the Time’s feet and that he should do the same. In other words, to wait it out. San’s strategy of releasing anger on someone was to open his notes and rage type in a long text everything he wanted to say, and by the time he finished typing, he’d get tired and realised that it was no point in getting mad. Wooyoung was about to do the same.

All the good in the world around him was cloaked by two types of frustrations. One that he had little control over. The other was a frustration of self and at the way he handled a situation that could have been avoided.

He once watched an anime where the characters made a wish on the first sunrise after New Year’s. As desperate as he was to redeem himself, he closed his eyes and prepared his wish.

From that day onward, Yeosang was the one who walked into the workshop with his costume on, and also the one to bring Wooyoung’s make up to him. All without saying a word. Even when Wooyoung asked him how he was, Yeosang would nod and avoid looking anywhere close to him. Which, in a way, was a good thing, because Wooyoung hardly ever got the chance to see him in a white light. There was one moment when they’d met eyes, when Wooyoung had to angle Yeosang’s chin up so the airbrush’s particles would not reach his face, and he found his hand unable to leave his skin. In that fraction of a second, he envisioned himself carding his hands through Yeosang’s hair, its healthy and smooth texture that Wooyoung knew better than he wanted. He would recognise Yeosang’s hair even by a strand alone. At the end of that day, Yeosang rushed out of the club with his make up on, and wearing Yunho’s coat. He came back minutes later with two stacks of tea and coffee for everyone. While they were trying to figure out whom the Irish coffee was for, Wooyoung was too busy not to fall in love again. When he decided to check it out, he met Yeosang halfway, already bringing him the coffee, asking him ‘I hope this is okay?’ To which Wooyoung nodded. His tongue burned a lot more than his hand. ‘Thank you’.

[Me]

23:20

Bitch he just got me Irish coffee I’m about to lose it

[Sannie]

23:21

How does he know u like that tho

[Me]

23:21

I dunno we’ve never went out??

Oh

OH

OH MY GOD

AT THE STATION

When we were at the station, I got some and-

????? he was there 

[Sannie]

23:22

That is impressive

Woo, listen

[Me]

23:22

If you’re about to scold me istg 

[Sannie]

23:23

He messaged me

[Me]

23:23

Haha he what now

[Sannie]

23:25

He messaged me asking me to convince you to hear him out. He also told me not to tell you this. Or to read this message out loud to you.

Hear him out. Wouldn’t hurt.

*

Instead of spending his afternoons getting work done, he spent them working on his fibreoptic costume, together with two girlfriends both majoring in fashion. He had the fabric delivered to his house, and he spent the entire night watching it glow. Well, not really, because it came with a set of batteries. When the girls saw whom he was designing the costume for, they instantly got more excited to help out, teasing Wooyoung that ‘Oh just call him your boyfriend already’. After hours of glueing and sewing, hours which neither of these three spent going to their lectures, the top was finally done. Almost. The next step was delivering it to the club so Hongjoong can scream with him.

He folded the top nicely and placed it in his backpack, exchanged numbers with the girls as he promised to buy them lunch once, and he was on his way.

Right at the campus’ gates stood a boy dressed all in black. Black coat with a thick cord wrapped around his waist, a black beret, and matte dark boots. He was on his phone, peeking up every two seconds, and if Wooyoung hadn’t worn his glasses, he would have walked past him.

“Hey,” Yeosang said, looking up from his phone right when Wooyoung stopped in front of him.

Wooyoung tilted his head, already guilty for not returning Yeosang’s smile.

“What?”

“Um,” Yeosang muttered, scratching the side of his neck, and Wooyoung could not stop thinking about how cute Yeosang looked with glasses on, even though they were fake. “I wanted to talk to you about the other day. If that’s okay.”

Well, the other day’s Yeosang, first of all, barely wore any clothes, and was covered in glitter and sweat and rhinestones in all the right places. His hair was messy and mascara was running down his cheeks, and strands of his hair were sticking to his lip gloss. Today’s Yeosang barely revealed any skin. He wore a turtle neck underneath that long coat, Wooyoung noticed, and faux leather gloves. His hair was smooth against his forehead and his cheeks appeared chubbier too.

So Wooyoung had a hard time deciding if what happened then was just a messed up dream or not.

“Can I buy you a drink? We could talk there. If you want. Anywhere is fine.”

“Look,” Wooyoung wanted to appear like he had everything under control. So much under control, that his mouth spoke before his brain allowed it. “If you have something to say, you’ll say it here.”

Yeosang nodded, head lowering slowly, like his batteries were draining quicker than planned, and Wooyoung felt strong in front of him for the first time.

“I don’t know why I said that. My best explanation is that ‘I wasn’t myself’, but now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds kind of dumb.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“I’ve never said that to anyone. Ever. I regretted it instantly. And every second since then. I had a hard time sleeping too. I felt really bad.”

“Okay.”

“I still feel bad.”

“Okay.”

The mischievous and stubborn side of Wooyoung resented Yeosang at that time, but the side of him who was in love with him wanted nothing more than to hear him talk.

“Anything else?”

And there was nothing wrong with testing people every now and then. You know, making them show you how much they’d fight for you.

“No.”

There was nothing wrong with that.

“Great, well then, I gotta cross the street here and-”

“Wait.” But Wooyoung didn’t. His eyes were on the traffic light. “I really don’t want you to think I dislike you, because I don’t. You know, I- I would not have come all the way here if I did.”

Wooyoung let out a heavy sigh and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “There’s a café right there.”

Wooyoung was halfway through his Irish coffee, and Yeosang still hasn’t said a thing. He didn’t stare out the window, or check his phone, although the anxiety he displayed on his face, and the Herculean effort he made not to look in Wooyoung’s eyes was impressive. Wooyoung almost took pity on him.

“I’ve never dated anyone.” Yeosang finally said, sheepishly, as if he admitted something shameful. Which, to him, it was, considering that he almost stuttered, and he hasn’t lifted his gaze from his lap.

“Really?”

Yeosang nodded, and took his beret off, folding its headband inside and out.

“Have you?”

Wooyoung nodded back, taking a slow sip of his coffee. Yeosang seemed to have been taken aback. Disappointed, even.

“What I did back there, I didn’t do it to be selfish. Or possessive. The whole time I was praying that you’d understand what I meant just by looking at me. But that was a bad move on my end. I didn’t consider your state. I didn’t consider your feelings, and I completely disregarded how my actions may come across...Would you believe me if I told you that I never screwed up that bad?” Yeosang asked, wiping the dot of blood at the base of his cuticle.

He thought Wooyoung wouldn’t notice. “What do you mean?”

“I suck at…words, but I was never bad at thinking, and seeing the bigger picture. But since what happened then, I’m starting to change my mind. Maybe I’m not even half as smart as I thought I was.”

“I think you’re smart. Maybe it was like...a situation you’ve never been through before.”

“Maybe not situation, but feeling. This whole fog of things I’ve never felt before. And it clouded my ability to think rationally. So I ended up doing things on impulse, and then when the fog would clear, I would wake up to you looking at me like you wanted fo push me off a cliff, and there’s been like two occasions in which I literally had no idea why I said the things I said. And then there was misunderstanding over misunderstanding and I got so tired —Why are you smiling?”

"Look at you figuring things out on your own. I told you you’re smart.”

“This might sound bad, but being out of there helps.”

“Out of there?”

“The club.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s a lot to take in there. If you look at it from upstairs, you’ll see clouds of smoke and this darkish haze that I don’t know where it comes from. And I stood there thinking ‘That’s what the fog in my head looks like’. Downstairs there’s a lot going on. So much I don’t want to be part of.”

“Well you’re doing a very good job at pretending.”

“That’s a relief, honestly.”

“But, you know, there’a a lot of things out there you can do if you’re unhappy there.”

“I am happy. I am more than happy. But…Actually no, this is a subject for another time.”

Wooyoung smiled to reassure Yeosang, and it seemed to work, as he mirrored his smile.

Wooyoung took a short sip of his coffee. He waited to see if Yeosang had anything else to say before going “I never hated you. Never hated anyone.”

“No, but no one wants to get mixed signals from someone else. And no one wants to be even remotely manipulated by someone they love. I understood your frustration better than I understood myself. It wasn’t easy to initiate a conversation with you, so please give me some credit.”

“Everyone told me that I’m easy to talk to. Why are you so special?”

“Well maybe these people have high self esteem. I don’t. You’re so...out there. And I’m not.”

“Out there.”

“Yes. Like...You’re always talking to the clients. You offend them with jokes that actually makes them laugh. You don’t have to do anything to make people like you. You’re genuine. And to me...people like you are very intimidating.”

“Keep looking at me.”

“What?”

“Keep looking at me until you don’t find me intimidating anymore. I mean it.”

“I can’t look at you with that goal in mind, I’m sorry. Because if I do, I’ll fall. And I managed to walk all the way here without tripping, so…progress.”

Wooyoung found a way to maintain his glare, and the way Yeosang looked at him, somewhat fearful, unprepared, made Wooyoung feel like he was holding Yeosang’s chin up.

“So what’s your goal, then?”

Yeosang raised his chin high and proud, like he no longer needed support. And that was all it took for Wooyoung to be pulled in. 

The same Yeosang. Who burned paper when he was unhappy. Yeosang. The pyrolator. Jaspers for eyes.

“Will you date me?” He blurted, right when Wooyoung was drinking, and he had to turn around and choke it out quietly. If Yeosang had not been so overwhelmed, he would have laughed, but then, he was more than concerned, already up with a tissue in his hands. “Y-You okay?”

Wooyoung nodded, wiping his tears before putting his glasses back on. “I literally did not expect you to say that.”

Yeosang kept quiet, his eyes expectant, but the answer he was waiting for never came. He watched how Wooyoung avoided his eyes, how calmly he added one more sugar cube to his coffee. He didn’t know what stopped him from walking out and save himself some shame.

“Back at Uni…how long did you spend waiting for me?”

Maybe that voice. “Um, I don’t know. About two hours.”

Wooyoung balled his fists underneath the table. He saw how hopeless Yeosang became when he failed to answer his question, watching his cheeks brim with embarrassment. However, Wooyoung was the only one who knew that it was going to be worth it. The wait for the answer. The wait for the costume.

San told him to wait it out. And Wooyoung was pushing it.

“Okay, here’s the full truth.” Yeosang said, with so much control in his voice that Wooyoung had no choice but to listen and watch. “I feel safe with you. And…to me, that’s more important. It’s like…It’s like making sure that person can give you what you need before they give you what you want, you know? I like you enough to come see you really often, and to hold your hand in public, and to come support your expos in case you have any. I like you enough to introduce you to my cat.”

“…Your cat.”

“Her name is Ariadne, she’s a seven-month-old Turkish Angora, and she’s an actual princess. I only introduce her to people I really like.”

Wooyoung smiled, because of how he talked about his cat, or because of what he said earlier than that, he did not know, but the tension from their table seemed to be elevating, and so did the dark aura that enveloped Yeosang. Now he could see him far clearer, and much to his dismay, he was falling in love again.

“You said ‘making sure that the person can give you what you need before giving you what you want’.”

“Yeah.”

“I want to hear more about it.”

“Well, um.”

“Think I can give you what you need?”

“You already did.”

The speed Yeosang answered that with left Wooyoung struck for a good moment. There was no more steam wafting from their coffees, no more dishes and porcelain clinking and clattering in the background. If he was delusional enough, he would have thought that the lights flickered.

“When you wiped my makeup off and you joked around like I was a kid.”

“And you acted like a brat.”

“I was exhausted. And I don’t know how to react to stuff like that. But in here,” he placed his hand over his chest “I liked it. I just wanted to fall asleep right there and then. And then I got home and I realised how much I missed that. I missed someone making me feel like the world wasn’t as bad. Even if it was just for a moment. It felt- It felt nice. Thank you.”

Wooyoung learned to never trust Yeosang’s smiles unless he smiled with his eyes as well. His eyes sparkled in their own way when he smiled truthfully.

Wooyoung learned that Yeosang was truly happy when the corner of his eyes were crinkling with joy, and when he covered his mouth with both his hands, and when he’d pull his shirt over his mouth when he laughed, as if his laugh wasn’t the sweetest sound to ever travel this Earth.

Both something and someone precious was sitting before Wooyoung, and he still had not learned the value of it, because this value kept increasing. And because time was money, Wooyoung was out there trying to figure out how fast does it take to fall in love, and from that, to understand the value of it.

Neither of them meant to leave the conversation hanging, and both wanted answers from each other. Answering Yeosang’s question was like taking a leap of faith, and he would have been afraid if he hadn’t had a death scare already.

Each time Yeosang looked at him, he knew he wanted to bring it up again, to resurface the question, and Wooyoung wanted to hold his hand.

There were two subway stations left for Yeosang, and three for Wooyoung. Once the subway left the first station, Wooyoung counted his seconds. The seconds Yeosang thought he lost. Anxiety grew in him like an inevitable collision, his nose discovered a new smell and his ears a new sound. A new taste bloomed on the tip of his tongue and a new range of colours right before his eyes. Vivid, like a rainbow reflected in water. And through all these revelations, Yeosang was next to him, black like a geode, and much like the metaphor went, there was a gemstone beneath all that.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

When the subway stopped again, and there was one station left for Yeosang, Wooyoung grabbed his hand and linked their fingers together. His shoulders twitched, and he jerked his head towards Wooyoung, eyes locked upon him like such an infinitesimal gesture would grant him every wish.

Yeosang’s hand loosened around Wooyoung’s hand, because he understood. Yeosang could make any wish, and Wooyoung was there to grant it, but only if it did him well. Wooyoung held Yeosang’s right hand, as if he knew that was where he held all his love in.

The train was slowing down, and Yeosang squeezed his hand back, but he 

“Woo-”

“Go.”

*

[Me]

23:35

Just made it back. Are you home safe?

[Yeosang]

23:52

Yeah, thank you. 

00:12

Wooyoung?

[Me]

00:37

?

[Yeosang]

00:48

Will you take my make up off tomorrow 

[Me]

01:03

Of course.

*

They both reached a wordless agreement to act like everything was fine just for people to stop meddling in. There was a time for them where they did not need anyone else to even remotely try to offer their insight on their situation. They stopped avoiding each other, Wooyoung went to see Yeosang as much as his time allowed him, and Yeosang always made time to go buy Wooyoung coffee. For the next days, their eyes spoke more than their mouths did.

Wooyoung had to suffer through another number of a burlesque striptease, where Hongjoong decided to dress Yeosang up in a tuxedo, with a sheer, silvery shirt, and a silk tie. Once again Wooyoung failed to watch til the end. The next day, however, it was Seonghwa’s show, and Wooyoung, as a form of revenge, dressed him up in fishnets, and a mask resembling a bird’s beak to cover his crotch, with fake roses poking out from beneath it. Yeosang threw a quiet jealousy fit when he found out that Wooyoung was able to watch Seonghwa’s show until the end, and not his, and made sure to let him know how hurt he was in front of everyone. Suddenly, Hongjoong and Seonghwa didn’t know a Wooyoung. The next night he sat on his knees while he removed Yeosang’s make up, and he had done it visibly slower as well, giving Yeosang time to feel like he was important to him. And when it came to removing the rhinestones from his face, Wooyoung caressed apologises on his cheeks right over where the skin was reddish. For that time, it was enough. On their way home, they sat all the way in the back and held hands, each with their headphones in.

Wooyoung gave the workshop a once-over and locked the door. He turned the lights off in every room and made sure nothing was left running. He was supposed to be one of the few people left in there, if not the only one. He placed his headphones around his neck and messaged San while he was on his way to Yeosang’s changing room. He swung the door open, not expecting to find him lying on his couch using his jacket as a pillow, and with his shoes off. He startled and gave Wooyoung and insistent glare. “Can I help you?”

“Wasn’t expecting to find you here. I gotta close up, come on.”

Yeosang lifted himself up in a sitting position, and balanced his feet left and right, eyes downcast. “Can I have the key?”

“…Why?”

“I ugh,” He grabbed his hoodie strings, tying and untying them, evening them out. “I’m staying here.”

“How long?”

“Overnight.”

Wooyoung sat down next to him, leaving some distance between them. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.”

There were a lot of questions circling around Wooyoung’s head, and he was too tired to read Yeosang’s face, although it did not take a genius to realise that he was unsettled, but he was only bothered because he didn’t know why. With a sigh, Wooyoung took his shoes off and made himself comfortable, tossing his bag on the chair by the vanity.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m staying with you.”

“Um, no? You’re not. Go home.”

“Um, yes I am? I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re here on your own. This place looks like a perfect setting for a horror movie. I got the creeps just from having to turn the lights off.”

“Yeah, I heard you scurrying around.”

“And yet you didn’t come to help me.”

“Sorry. It was funny. I had a good time.”

They exchanged a series of smiles and chuckles and soft kicks in the shin before going back to being silent. Wooyoung was keeping San updated, and screaming at him through texts that he doesn’t know what else to talk to Yeosang about. Or if he should start talking.

Yeosang lied back down, pulling his legs to his chest and staring into space. Wooyoung’s almost never seen him on his phone, or with his headphones on for that matter. In fact, he never carried headphones around. Wooyoung remembered how Yunho said that Yeosang can never sit still. During his breaks he was seen doing inversions on his dance pole, or seeing how fast he can spin in his aerial hoop. Or choreographing his future performances.

It was close to midnight, less than two hours until San would start going insane. He had been awake for about ten hours now, so Wooyoung was not as worried as other times.

Wooyoung peeked at Yeosang at almost every ten seconds to check if he was asleep. He was nibbling on his lower lip and biting the skin off.

“My sister’s in town. With her boyfriend.” Yeosang said after what felt like hours. “They wanted to see me. And stay at my place. Which was fine, because they’re cool. But then it got ugly.”

“This happened today?”

“Yeah. Before I came here.”

“Won’t they be worried?”

“…I told them I’m staying at my friend’s house.”

“And they’re at your place now.”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

Yeosang shrugged his shoulder. “Tomorrow? I don’t know. But I’m not going back there until they leave…They don’t…They don’t really like what I do. They don’t get it. My sister thinks it’s cool. Or she used to think so. I guess her boyfriend made her change her mind. I have a lot of things in my room they won’t like. They’re gonna look in there, they’re gonna tell mom, mom’s gonna yell at me, then dad’s gonna ask me to come back home.”

“…Would you ever go back home?”

“No. I worked hard to get here. I’m not going back to a place that’s bad for me. No one wants me there anyway.”

Wooyoung twirled and untwirled the headphone’s cord around his finger. He could sympathisewith Yeosang to some extent, but he also knew that there was a good reason behind the way he was. Dual. Outrageous.

“Come with me, then.”

“Huh?”

“To my place.”

Wooyoung saw a glimmer in Yeosang’s eyes, and even mentally prepared himself to take his stuff and leave, but the said glimmer died as soon as a shooting star, almost as if Yeosang remembered something he shouldn’t have. “No.”

“You won’t be a bother. I promise. San’s away, and I’ll force him to sleep, and I have some drawings to finish, so…”

“No, really, it’s fine. It’s just one night.”

“But you’re cold. And I don’t know how safe it is to be here on your own.”

“I know this place better than you.”

“Yeosang, you’re being stubborn.”

“And what about it?”

Wooyoung grabbed Yeosang’s ankles and pulled him off the couch, playful and smiling. “Off you go, come on.”

“I said no!”

Wooyoung held Yeosang’s glare “Don’t shout at me,” until he started backing down, and the same guilty look in his eyes came forward again. He waited until Wooyoung released him and went back to sitting with his legs to his chest.

“…It’s not out of pity, you know.” Wooyoung said, as softly as one would when trying to comfort a baby. “You’re my friend. And I want you to be safe. I know you’re gonna be sad. And you’re gonna cry. Crying over people who don’t see you for who you are is not worth it.”

Wooyoung waited, but Yeosang didn’t move. He pouted instead. Wooyoung watched as the anger on Yeosang’s face turned into something gentler, like a childish kind of stubbornness. So Wooyoung allowed himself to pack Yeosang’s stuff, to put his jacket around his shoulders, and to put his beanie on. But Wooyoung would not be Wooyoung if he hadn’t dragged the beanie all over Yeosang’s face just to get a reaction from him. And as he was busy pulling the beanie back up, Wooyoung leaned over him and started tickling him. He was merciful and stopped when Yeosang’s smile became more candid than the present itself.

Wooyoung locked the front door finally, and on their way to the station, they locked pinkies. He joked that Yeosang would run back in if he didn’t keep him still, but more than that, he was surprised to see that neither of them wanted to draw their hand back. They walked quietly, eyes on the ground or the top of the trees, or some fancy car passing by. When Wooyoung noticed that Yeosang started spiralling, he squeezed his pinkie and threatened to tickle him again. And there was nothing more satisfying than watching him get flustered.

On the subway, they shared headphones, their pinkies still linked. Wooyoung leaned his head against the backrest and closed his eyes, and Yeosang looked at Wooyoung’s reflection in the window. He shifted his eyes to the night sky when Wooyoung opened his eyes back.

Wooyoung’s apartment was bigger than Yeosang expected. A small hallway with two doors to the left. First one lead to the kitchen, the other one to the living room. From the living room, there was another hallway which lead to two doors. Both white, like they were part of a riddle where you had to say one true statement. Behind one door there was chaos, and behind the other there was love. Wooyoung politely refused to show Yeosang San’s room because it was, indeed, chaos. The rest of the house was also divided, like each of the two had to mark their territory with their study materials. The couch and the coffee table were filled with books of performance skills, the history of theatre, and the 19th century theatre in Europe. The floor and the armchair were engulfed in papers and canvases and every flat surface that one can draw on, human anatomy and history of art papers, and an essay called ‘Painting: The Task of Mourning’.

“Excuse the mess.”

Yeosang shook his head. “I like this sort of mess.”

Wooyoung passed him an extra pair of fluffy slippers. “Do you wanna go shower first, or should I?”

“You can go first.”

Yeosang sat down on he floor, on an empty patch that did not seem to be part of any territory. While Wooyoung was in the shower, Yeosang held his books to his chest and read only the essay bits that Wooyoung highlighted. He smiled, not fully understanding why. He looked through his drawings, unwrinkling the crumpled papers which Wooyoung deemed unworthy to show the world, but for Yeosang, they were better than anything he’s ever made.

The living room window was closed, and he became more sensitive to the sounds around him enclosed between the walls. Wooyoung’s steps in the other room, the way his shirt slipped up his body as he took it off, the soft clink of the belt’s buckle as it fell onto the floor. Wooyoung’s empty feet padding onto the marble tiles. Yeosang held the papers to his chest and closed his eyes. A part of him wanted to rest them, the other wanted nothing else to distract him from listening. It was seconds later when he came to his senses, and went back to reading whatever was on his lap. He pressed his cold hands to his cheeks to cool them down. He pictured himself alone in the club with Wooyoung, dancing for him, twirling around on his hoop, and when he’d sit with head upside down, Wooyoung would laugh at him, but would eventually walk over and kiss him. Even his thoughts were embarrassing to himself, but there was no way to stop them. They were all there to keep himaway from how sad their real situation was. Wooyoung did not want to date him.

And that was okay.

When he walked out of the shower, Yeosang was looking through the human anatomy sheets, his eyes over the same English word, one which he did not know how to pronounce.

“…Is it weird that I’m proud of you?” Yeosang said before Wooyoung even sat down next to him.

“Why?”

“Just…what you do. Everything you do. You’re really talented. I think that’s cool. How you’re using it. I mean, not letting it go to waste.”

Wooyoung chuckled and ruffled Yeosang’s hair. “Don’t get sentimental on me now. You can go shower, I left you a towel there.”

He nodded, and Wooyoung’s eyes followed him as he grabbed his bag and excused himself.

“Yeosang-ah?”

“Yeah?”

Wooyoung smiled softly. “I’m proud of you too.”

Never in a million years would he regret looking at the way Yeosang hid his smile behind his sweater paw.

Wooyoung waited for him in his room with the door open, sprawled on his bed. He might have taken a power nap while he waited. Some people saw their photoreceptors creating nebulasand light plays when they closed their eyes, but there has not been one occasion in which Wooyoung didn’t see Yeosang.

He wrapped himself in his blanket and opened the window. It was much warmer than other nights.

San had a theory about people who fell in love repeatedly. Not only did he emphasise that it was a good thing, but it was also a sign of a long lasting relationship. He developed this theory on him and Jongho. He concluded that people fall in love as many times as they did in their past lives. And if the given person falls in love with the same one, then there were lives in which they didn’t meet the loves of their lives, and now that they did, they are making up for it. Maybe Wooyoung met Yeosang in his first life, then lived many others all by himself or half as happy, and now all the love he accumulated throughout those lifespans was exhibiting in this one. San’s second theory was that the number people fall in love with the same person is equal with the number of personalities there are, because there will always be a stage in which we will all embody all of them. This also worked with capital emotions. People fall in love with their said significant others when they’re sad, angry, when they’re laughing, when they’re intimate, and when they’re apart from each other.

Wooyoung was yet to fall in love with Yeosang many times. And he was all there for it.

Yeosang hesitantly entered Wooyoung’s room, as if not to bother the clothes laying on the floor, the cables and the books. He sat on the bed, and Wooyoung welcomed him under the blanket too.

“What are you thinking about?” Yeosang asked, his voice calm and sweet.

Wooyoung’s mind was as clear as the sky before him. He was trying to gather his courage, and for that, he did not require to use his mind. He did not have an answer good enough to make Yeosang pay attention to him, so he searched through the depths of his mind for something worth telling.

“…Cyparissus was one of Apollo’s lovers. Apollo gave him a deer, but he was a dumbass and he killed it. Cyparissus was so sad that he asked Apollo to make him cry forever. So Apollo, being the good boyfriend he was, he made Cyparissus into a cypress tree…Which is why their saps form droplets…supposed to be his tears.” Wooyoung’s eyes were somewhere out the window. He’s never told a myth that calmly ever before. Yeosang’s eyes kept him warmer than the blanket. “I was also thinking about Apollo and Hyacinthus. The dude really fell in love. I mean, they were both said to be in love. Happy too. Until that dickhead Zephyrus got all jealous so…One day, when the two were practicing throwing the discus, Zephyrus changed the winds…and the discus hit Hyacinthus right in the head. And he died. Apollo was so sad that he made the prince into a flower. Oh, yeah, Hyacinthus was a prince, by the way.”

Yeosang swore on the aforementioned gods that he was paying attention, not on how Wooyoung spoke every syllable and recited everything so clearly, with his own touch of humour, but at how his lips shaped as he told the story. “Tell me more?”

Wooyoung smiled lovingly. “Well…You have Selene, goddess of the moon and all that. She fell in love with Endymion, some shepherd dude. When she flew down on Earth, she saw him sleeping and went all like ‘Oh no, he’s so pretty when he sleeps’…Which is creepy. Then she went to Endymion’s dad —Zeus, by the way, and asked him to work his magic and make Endymion sleep forever and always be young and cute…So he does. And Selene just watched him sleep. But there are other sources saying that he was only granted eternal youth…and not cursed to sleep forever.” Wooyoung paused. “And then she had fifty daughters with him.”

“While he was asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Fifty?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, wow.”

Yeosang’s eyes were lined with curiosity, and he was awful at pretending that he was uninterested. Wooyoung boasted himself for having had the ability to draw all of his attention on him. In that moment, Yeosang looked at Wooyoung like he was nothing less of a muse. He looked like he was already putting the pieces together of a new dance. And Wooyoung saw all that happen through his eyes.

Yeosang’s mind was like a portal to a realm where paradoxes and riddles and answers and forms of art that the human creative prowess have not yet fathomed lived. Wooyoung considered himself lucky that he was exposed to the smallest percentage of it. And this was what motivated him to learn how to ease Yeosang into more and more conversations, to have Yeosang open himself up like the curtains draw apart when he’s about to walk on stage.

“Yeosang-ah,”

Wooyoung remembered about all the stories and myths San had told him when he was drunk, and legends he’s read when he was on his own. Myths about how gods fell in love with mortals so beautiful, that they divined them or made them into constellations, or doomed them to an eternal sleep so they’d watch over them. Wooyoung saw Yeosang in Hyacinthus and Ganymede, but he did not think of himself as Apollo or Zeus. Instead, he found it a very efficient way to measure his love. In both time and intensity.

“Hm?”

The back of their fingers brushed together almost as naturally as a vine crawling up a tree. The light in the room was dim, and the moon seemed to shine as brightly as the sun. They watched the stars flicker, the planes’ red lights flaring up as they flew across the sky, a set of fireworks being set off in the distance. Their fingers laced together, and Wooyoung felt Yeosang’s pulse drumming through his skin, while he couldn’t be calmer.

“I want to date you.”

There was music playing from a nearby club. A car had passed by. The night sky was as loud as ever. In Wooyoung’s ears, every other sound was cancelled by the soft, almost inaudible, gasp that escaped Yeosang’s lips. Wooyoung breathed in the smell of an upcoming rain.

“Okay.” Yeosang whispered, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand in his.

They spoke about each other, but not to each other. Their eyes were towards the moon, speaking as if they were making vows in Selene’s presence.

Wooyoung felt Yeosang smiling, and that made him want to smile too.

Yeosang was there to stay, but as much as Wooyoung liked to compare the world around him to myths and immortal stories, his real life was not about that. So he released his hand from Yeosang’s grip and went to grab him by the chin instead to shift his attention back at him. He touched his cupid’s bow with the tips of his fingers, then slowly leaned his palm against his cheek. Yeosang remained still, warm, and unblinking, even when Wooyoung caressed his eyelashes with his thumb. Even then, his eyes were trustworthy, fully opened, and just as inquisitive.

Wooyoung’s fingers’s sled down to the apples of Yeosang’s cheeks —warmer than the rest of him, then down to his parted lips. “Wooyoung,” He called, and to subdue and urge to kiss him, Wooyoung pulled him into a tight hug, with Yeosang’s head leaned against his chest.

Yeosang pronounced Wooyoung’s name in a way that he made it sound divine. If names were to gain meanings from the way they sounded, Wooyoung’s name would have meant ‘storm bringer’. He made Wooyoung’s name sound powerful. 

Yeosang bore the sound in his name, and every vibration, noise, and song travelled through him like sun rays through a prism. He spoke gently, but with enough authority to make people refrain from wanting to look away. He spoke assertively, but quietly enough for the rarest of flowers to bloom underneath his tongue.

He breathed slowly, and with a steady rhythm, making Wooyoung think that he fell asleep. “You good?”

Yeosang hummed in affirmation, and loosely wrapped his hands round Wooyoung’s waist.

“Let me know if you’re gonna fall asleep on me.”

Even if he did, Wooyoung would do the impossible to make time stop for him. And time did indeed stop as well as Wooyoung’s heart when Yeosang chuckled softy. “Will you stay?”

“I’ll be here. I’m not sleeping yet. But you should.”

Yeosang unwrapped his arms from around Wooyoung and raised his head to meet his eyes. “What will you do?”

“I have some stuff to finish. Plus, I have to wait for San…Plus, I never go to bed this early.”

“Then I’ll stay with you.”

“No need. I’ll join you soon.”

Yeosang didn’t need much convincing than that. He became unresponsive seconds after his cheek hit the pillow. Wooyoung sat at his desk, spinning his pencil around his finger, and froze into place when he dropped it on the floor. He turned around in despair to find a still unconscious Yeosang. The mildest kind of love bloomed around the walls of his heart when he looked at him, his chubby cheeks, fluffy hair, and the pout on his lips. He pulled the blanket all over him, leaving out only his face and his feet. Wooyoung stood up and dragged the blanket back to cover his feet, but Yeosang immediately kicked it away. Wooyoung laughed to himself and went back to his drawings. At least until he fell asleep with his cheek against his arm. Minutes later, however, he woke up to the sound of tapping. His first instinct was to go check if San had returned home, but the sound came from somewhere behind him. He found Yeosang still asleep, with a slight frown on his face, and patting the bed with his palm as if he was searching for something. Wooyoung contemplated waking him up in case he was having a nightmare, but he went to sit down on the edge of the bed. He opened his palm and took Yeosang’s hand in his.

He opened one eye, then the other, and gave Wooyoung a cold and confused glare. “What’re you doing?”

Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders. “You tell me. You had a bad dream?” He asked, and Yeosang shook his head. “You looked like you were searching for something.”

“…Oh. Yeah.” Yeosang rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, like babies do, and maybe Wooyoung’s heart twitched. “I forgot I wasn’t home. Ariadne sometimes sleeps next to me.”

Wooyoung nodded and patted Yeosang’s stomach over the blanket. “You’ll see her tomorrow. Try and get some sleep.”

Yeosang kicked the blanket off him and gathered it back up between his thighs. “I’m okay. I feel rested.”

“You look like an aggressive sleeper.”

“No. I’m just very particular about my blankets…Thank you for trying to cover me, though."

“Do I detect sarcasm?”

“I mean it. Really. Thought it was nice of you.”

“Uh-huh,” Wooyoung hummed, gathering up his messy papers in three different piles according to which assignment it was for. “Remind me not to share a bed with you.”

He heard Yeosang shuffling behind him “Y-You can,” And he turned around to see him up, with the cushion to his chest, hair messy and fluffier than before, little strands sticking up, and puffy cheeks “I mean. I won’t kick you.”

“Cool,” Wooyoung said, and walked back to Yeosang to flick his forehead. “Come on. Past midnight snack.”

Yeosang followed him to the kitchen, his eyes on the walls decorated with his works. A textured acrylic painting the size of his hand, of a white lotus. Yeosang walked his finger over the petals, almost afraid to touch it, taking in the thickness of the paint, and how soft the petals felt to the touch.

“How did you make this?”

“With a palette knife. You take like a blob of paint on the tip and sort of press it down, give it a shape as you swipe.”

“I like it. It feels weirdly therapeutic to look at it.”

“It’s therapeutic to paint it too.”

“And this one?” He pointed to a mountain scenery against a wooden plank.

“Wood burning, or pyrogravure. You sketch over it, if you’re not confident, like yours truly, and then you use a special pen for the burn marks.”

“You did this in Uni?”

“No. I went to a workshop in my first year. Tried a bunch of stuff. I was still trying to figure out what worked for me. Haven’t touched a woodburning pen since.”

Yeosang hummed, his eyes lingering on the burn marks. In the meantime, Wooyoung was contemplating whether he should make hotteok or not. Then he realised neither of them have eaten anything close to a dinner, so he went back to the fridge and decided to warm up the surprisingly edible japchae he and San made the other day.

“I thought you said snack?”

“Yeah, but I forgot we haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Yeosang sat down at the table, his cheek buried in his crossed arms, and stared at Wooyoung’s blond hair, almost as if he was trying to read what lied beneath it. His roots had not grown dark yet,and he thought he was one of the few people who made blond look natural. “I like your hair.”

“Thank you.”

“How long has it been like that?”

“…Like three months?”

“It looks good on you, but please take better care of it.” Since Wooyoung was on the right path to learning Yeosang’s tonalities, he knew he meant that purely out of care, but if he said that to a stranger on the cold tone he used, he might have made someone cry.

“No time.”

Yeosang looked down at the way he started picking at his cuticles. “Can I take care of it, then?”

“Go for it.”

If there was one thing, one part of Wooyoung that Yeosang could just toss out the window and burn to ashes and dig down beneath the Earth, was his inability to offer Yeosang open-ended answers. It almost felt like he wanted to put Yeosang through the torture of finding something else to talk about.

“You said you dated before. How was it?”

“Why would you want to talk about that?”

The problem was that, in fact, he didn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, wait, I- yeah, sorry, that sounded aggressive. Ugh, it was okay…You know how, in badly written novels, the villain or the antagonist has no other purpose but to impede the main character from reaching their goal? I mean, there’s nothing much to them than…being and doing bad. My partner was like that. But not with me. He told me about how he’ll manipulate his coworkers to get him a raise and so on. Obviously I asked a lot of questions, and he was like ‘Oh, I’ll never do this to you’.”

“And you didn’t want to risk it.”

“Yeah, I didn’t. And I needed a way to let him know that it’s not cool.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

“No. Just a short ‘happy birthday’ and we’re done for the year.”

They spent the next half hour or so trying to reach San. Wooyoung was one phone call away from putting his shoes on and searching the entire campus for his soulmate. Apparently he forgot to tell Wooyoung that he was out with his course mates, celebrating “Wait, I forgot what we’re celebrating, but it’s good, it’s all good, I’ll get home at like six. I love you!” And hung up. Wooyoung went to stock San’s room up with water bottles and remove all the cables that he could trip against. He knew drunk San better than he knew sober San. All while Yeosang watched him be all sweet and careful, and laughing when Wooyoung would spit out a curse word while complaining about San’s bad habits.

“You’re so creative with the way you curse.”

Wooyoung folded up the clothes that San left thrown on the floor. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

And Yeosang picked up a pair of black jeans and proceeded to fold them too. “I’m on a cursing ban.”

“What’s that?”

“…It’s a thing we have at the club. We each go on a cursing ban for a given time, and if we win, we get stuff. Your turn might come soon.”

Yeosang passed Wooyoung the pile of folded clothes, which he squeezed within San’s already full wardrobe. “And what stuff do you get?”

“Depends what you ask for and if Yunho hyung is in the mood to say yes. I asked for him to let me play with fire again.”

“He told me you’re a pyromaniac.”

“Not really. But I admit last time was my mistake.”

“So, what, you set things on fire?”

Yeosang looked towards his right, then little over his shoulder towards the kitchen. He noticed the matchbox lying on the counter and brought it back with him. Before Wooyoung had time to register what happened, Yeosang lit the match and stuck it in his mouth like it was nothing, then wiggled it between his teeth to show he had not harmed himself. “No. Just this.”

Wooyoung was not born in a religious family, but sometimes wish he had. For safety reasons. “I can’t believe I just brought the devil in my house.” He said, recalling the dark memory when he and San watched The Conjuring, which only fuelled their sleep depravity, and they contemplated stealing holy water from the church and to put it in a spray bottle. In the next second he was subjected to watching Yeosang eat fire again. “How in the fuck are you doing that?”

“It doesn’t hurt as long as you do it quick. Do you want to try? I can show you.”

“Fuck off with your demonic shit. No thank you. I’ll stick to eating nuggets like a normal human.”

Yeosang laughed, slightly proud of himself. He was about to go take the matchbox back, but Wooyoung stopped him and asked him to demonstrate again, but the third time he did it, he lit up two matches at once and rubbed them against his palm until he enclosed his fingers around it, putting the little flames out. “It’s better with a torch.” He said in the form of a complaint.

“I know I made fun of you, but that’s pretty cool.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

When Wooyoung finally deemed San’s room ready and safe for his drunken presence, he closed the window for the room to warm up, and they were off to their past midnight snack. Or meal. They sat across the table from each other, talking basics as if they haven’t had that conversation before. But Wooyoung found himself paying even more attention to Yeosang as he was talking about his love for dancing, and jazz. There was no rush. The night felt infinite.

Wooyoung sat with his elbow rested against the table, one knee to his chest, leaned all the way back into his chair, and the bowl in his hands. Yeosang’s back was in a perfect straight line, his elbows were off the table, and he was nowhere near hunching forward while eating. He picked his chopsticks up his pinkie finger slightly lifted, and took his time to perfectly fold a paper towel and place it on the other side. Wooyoung was fascinated, but not enough for him to change his pose.

“Woo,”

Wooyoung hummed in response. He was at the sink, rinsing the dishes. Last time he checked, Yeosang was sitting by the window. He held his breath as Yeosang wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning his cheek against his back. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I really am. I couldn’t stop thinking about it ever since.”

Wooyoung dried his hands with a clean towel, tapping Yeosang’s hand to let him go so he can turn around.

“We talked about this. I told you it’s okay.” He pulled Yeosang gently into his arms, resting his chin on his shoulder. “But I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain yourself.”

Yeosang hugged him back again, with his cheek against Wooyoung’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You had all the reasons to be mad at me.”

Wooyoung shook his head. “I was never mad at you. I felt other things, but I was never mad…I couldn’t bring myself to be.”

“Why not? You should have been.”

He should have, but a wave of insecurity washed over him, taking his common sense in the far sea with it, until the tides did him a favour. Wooyoung lifted his head, one arm still on Yeosang’s waist, pushing the strands of hair away from his eyes with his other hand. “Because I let my guard down for one second and I fall in love with you,” He said, and Yeosang’s shoulders lowered “That’s why. No other reason.”

“But that’s not what you said-”

“I know. I was a coward. I couldn’t say it.”

Yeosang filled his lungs with air, his lower lip twitching, as if he was ready to burst into tears. He dropped his head on Wooyoung’s chest, his arms tighter around him.

Wooyoung kissed his hair and leaned his cheek against it. “Let’s try to move on,” He mumbled, caressing Yeosang’s back with his thumb. “Start over. Get to know each other differently.” Yeosang nodded against his chest, and Wooyoung felt him pressing further into him, as if he was making himself comfortable, or as if he was metaphorically melting into him.

“So,” Wooyoung murmured “I guess we’re, ugh, boyf-”

“Lovers?” Yeosang poked his head up, his hands shyly fumbling around with the back of Wooyoung’s shirt. “What? Why’re you laughing?”

“Nothing, sorry. Yeah. Lovers. We’re totally lovers.”

“Tell me why you’re laughing.”

“The way you said it. It was really cute…Lover.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I wrote this I remember having to stop and think really often, because the stuff they went through and how they dealt with it gave me a lot to think about. That's also why I decided to keep the whole process of them talking and forgiving and overcoming and accepting in one chapter.


	5. All The Way Up, Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think we spend too much time questioning why we’re loved instead of…I don’t know, appreciating it.”

It turned out that, much to Wooyoung’s terror, Yeosang was an avid fan of phone calls, and Wooyoung never had the courage to tell him that he hated it when people called him at random times of day. San was having the time of his life laughing at Wooyoung cursing and gathering himself before answering. But then Wooyoung realised that nothing compared to hearing his boyfriend’s (lover’s) voice while he worked on his drawings. They talked almost every day while Wooyoung was on his way to University or when Yeosang was out to buy cat food. Eventually, Wooyoung got brave enough to ask him why he’s calling so often, to which Yeosang answered that ‘it makes him feel less lonely’. Although he stopped calling after that. Wooyoung saw it coming and took the matter in his own hands, calling Yeosang at night before going to bed, and during breakfast.

At work, each was busy with his own, to the point where they could not take their lunch breaks at the same time anymore. In a way, they did, but Wooyoung used every bit of his time trying to finish Yeosang’s fire costume, and also to keep his boyfriend away from the workshop. Now that the costume was almost done and proudly sat on the mannequin, him and Hongjoong were a lot more cautious. Yunho was already predicting Yeosang’s reaction, and he noticed how that was supposed to be nothing but a costume, but it turned out to be a gift.

Wooyoung thought of this ‘gift’ as a joke, but Hongjoong was very sentimental that day, because their longing for Seonghwa seemed to have seeped through the nerves of their brain too. They said “This is actually a good metaphor for levels of love. You make something for them based on what you think would look good on them, and you have control over the colour scheme, the fabrics, the shape, so this proves how much attention you pay to them and how well you understand their bodies based only on some measurements. And how well you understand their colours from the way they are as a person, and how you define your relationship. They are wearing something you made from scratch to show it in front of hundreds of people. And what they wear shapes who they are. On the inside. It’s like you are giving them another side to their personality. That’s amazing. Think about it.”

Wooyoung almost cried.

The first time he and Yeosang went back to work as a couple, it made everyone anxious, as they thought they were still at each other’s throat. Until Wooyoung kissed Yeosang’s forehead before heading off, and everyone’s jaw almost dropped. For some reason Yeosang couldn’t understand, they were congratulated, and were more excited than the couple itself. They all felt the need to give advice in different shapes or forms, things Wooyoung already knew, but he will always remember Yunho’s: “Break his heart and I’ll break your kneecaps.” 

One evening, at the end of the week, Yunho sent a message in the club’s group chat, telling everyone to gather up in the lounge for a meeting. And that same night, Wooyoung found Yeosang asleep with his makeup wipe in his hand. He sat him back up gently and finished the job for him, and even guided him to the showers, and waited for him on the other side of the door. In the lounge, he barely kept his eyes open, and his hands were shaking with exhaustion. Until Yunho said his name with a smile on: “Yeosangie…Even though you gave me about five heart attacks in the past two months…I’ve finally decided to incorporate your fire performances in our schedule this month.”

And Yeosang’s eyes hung open, his shoulders and hands now stone still. “What?…Wait, really?”

“Yes. Mingi and I have been talking about it. We are currently working on the safety features for the stage. We also got in touch with a supplier who’s going to work on your props.”

Wooyoung was about to drown in his own dose of tiredness as well, but the news he received made him feel several ways. He didn’t know what a fire performance meant in Yeosang’s terms. The performance made him feel excited. The fire, not so much. The thought of a fire performance all together made him feel much too warm inside. Nonetheless, he went to take Yeosang’s hand, which the latter just clasped between his. “I don’t- Hyung, thank you. I’ll work so hard. I won’t make you regret it, I swear.”

Yunho smiled, although uncertain. “I know you won’t. Also, starting from next week, we’re going to be renovating the stage and the flooring upstairs, and the showers because they’ve been bothering me since the beginning of time, sooo…” he trailed off, looking each dancer in the eye. “You have enough time to practice, improve, and choreograph if you need to. We don’t know how long this is going to take, but we plan to make it in less than a week.”

And that couldn’t have worked more in everyone’s favour.

On their way to the station, they both realised they had an unspoken wish to talk and spend more time in each other’s presence, so they decided to walk it all the way. Yeosang was back in his high spirits, was smiling to himself pretty much all the time, and even shoved his hand in Wooyoung’s pocket, to hold his hand in there. He didn’t look nearly as exhausted.

“So what do you do in your fire performance? Eat the fire?”

Yeosang met his question with the purest grin Wooyoung’s ever seen. “You’ll see.”

“Surprise?”

“Yeah. I’m so looking forward to it. And so should you.”

And Wooyoung felt their next conversation being about the costume, so he immediately changed the topic. “So, ugh, how did you get interested in this?”

“What, fire?”

“Everything you do. Dancing?”

“Well, technically, I’m an aerialist with acts in lyra —which is the same thing as the hoop, and silk. But I fell and dislocated my shoulder a few months ago and Yunho hyung is not letting me do that anymore. I failed to wrap my ankle around it properly, and I fell down. I had no mattress underneath either. I got too brave.”

“Goddamn, I knew you were an idiot.”

“Listen, I’ve learned. I’ll have to gain Yunho’s trust again.” He said, and Wooyoung chuckled. He felt Yeosang adjusting his hand around his, and by the times in the past he’d done this, Wooyoung learned that he was about to say something that he did not feel comfortable with. Yeosang fumbling around was equivalent to rolling his shoulders to elevate stress. “…I ran away from home on graduation day.”

Wooyoung looked at him with the corner of his eyes, and in the tight space of his pocket, he linked their fingers together.

“I took my diploma and I just left. My parents and I used to fight a lot. I used to be smart, you know. I was good at math, economics. Then in high school it all went downhill. I started-” He paused abruptly. “I worked in a strip club when I was eighteen.” He spat, and the discomfort in his voice was more visible than the steam of his breath as he was speaking. “That was,” He took in a breath, waiting for a car to pass by. “That was my first job. I lied about my age.”

There was nothing that Wooyoung had to say about that. He didn’t fully support it, but he wasn’t ashamed of it either. He’s taken his clothes off at parties before when he was drunk, and people shoved money under the waistband of his briefs, and even drank body shots for it. He was no stranger to things he wanted to bury in the depths of his mind.

“Then I trained at a local acrobatics school. They gave me two weeks to try for free, since I knew nothing about acrobatics. Then I saw this girl spinning in a hoop. She was hooked over it, with her hands grabbing her ankles. I climbed on one too, I practiced keeping my balance. I had no idea what I was doing, I was just contorting myself however my body allowed me, and I instantly knew what to do not to fall.”

“You were a natural.”

“Yeah, that’s what my instructor said. And, Woo, they let me stay. They let me train there for free. Because I was good at it.”

“Oh, how cool is that.”

“It really was. I went there almost every day. I took my sister there too. She thought I was joking, but then she saw me and went ‘I’ll cover for you next time, no way I’m letting mom find out about this’. And at that time, that was all I needed. I got interested in the aerial silk too, and from there I got into fire dancing.”

“And have you ever performed there?”

“Well, no.” Yeosang pulled his hand back and stuck it in his own pocket instead. Wooyoung felt him getting ashamed. “My parents found out. They forced me to quit. My high school contacted them, asking me if I was okay because I haven’t gone there in like weeks. I’m never gonna forget how pale my dad went when he found out. That was the first time he’s ever pushed me. Three times. My mom was yelling at me. I was crying. My sister was crying. And that night she came to sleep in my room. That was the most ‘older sister’ thing she’s ever done in her life.”

“What’s her name?”

“Yeonha.”

“And what did you two do after?”

“That time she was in a long distance relationship with a girl here. So she said ‘Mom, I’m auditioning for this thing in Seoul, and I’m taking Yeosang with me’. But that was a lie. We went to see her girlfriend. And this girlfriend of hers was also a dancer at L’aubade. So I guess we went there for an audition after all.”

“How the hell did you get so lucky in such a short time?”

“I know. It’s like I gathered up luck points throughout my life and spent them all then. I made it past all the auditions, then I remember crying when I told Yunho hyung that I’m not actually from Seoul and that I don’t have a place to stay. I felt so bad, because he praised me. I was the one who introduced aerial acrobatics to L’aubade. As I walked out, Yunho hyung ran after me and said ‘Stay in my old apartment. I’ll give you a place to stay, just don’t go.’ He made me cry again.”

“You live in Yunho hyung’s old apartment now?”

“Yeah. It’s a small studio. He and Mingi hyung used to live there before they got engaged. This is why I’m being paid less than the rest of the dancers, because he extracts my rent from my salary.”

“Well shit, I didn’t know you were being paid less, although you have the most numbers.”

“Woo, Yunho hyung gave me everything. If one day he’ll ask me to pay for props from my salary, I’ll do it. I owe him and Mingi hyung everything I have. They let me decorate the house, and they let me keep the cat. I can’t be anything but humble towards them.”

Wooyoung pulled Yeosang’s hand out of his pocket, and shoved back into his, holding his hand firmer than before. “You’re such a treasure.”

“…I’m really not.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried, I don’t know, modelling or something?”

“I did, they said I was too ugly.”

Wooyoung almost choked on his own intake of breath. “I beg all your fucking pardons? You’re literally the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen in my life? Wow, can’t believe I’m the one with the glasses, but there are others blinder than I am. Fucking ridiculous. If you’re ugly, then I’m atrocious.”

“No, you’re not! You’re handsome. ‘The reason why you love each other is because you are both the same number’ right? You should listen to your own advice.”

Wooyoung giggled and gave his hand a squeeze.

They were walking past a park, well illuminated, and empty, somewhere halfway to Yeosang’s home.

Knowing how their relationship has been going since they’ve met, there was not another time or place more fitted for Wooyoung to discover this new side of Yeosang. All that happened between them, happened at night. Except for their misunderstanding, where the sun had the audacity to witness. Wooyoung didn’t know if he could handle another conversation with Yeosang in broad daylight.

“Thank you,” He mumbled. “It was probably hard for you to talk about that. I’m happy you told me.”

Yeosang shook his head, his lips in a gentle pout. “It’s okay. I would’t have if I wasn’t ready.” 

“Hey, ugh,” Wooyoung held his steps, his hands clenched in his pockets. Yeosang took his hand back again, but kept it leaned against Wooyoung’s wrist as a form of support. “I need to tell you something.”

And Yeosang was not the type of guy to take this sort of sentence lightly. As he watched Wooyoung, and his mouth ready to shape the words, his entire life flashed before his eyes. He was overcome with a wave of panic, thinking it was something he said earlier that made Wooyoung change his opinion about him.

They were at the corner of the park, away from the light’s reach.

“I went out with Heejin. That same night.”

But maybe him being confronted about anything he said earlier would have been better.

“You didn’t.”

Wooyoung nodded, his eyes downcast. “I did. I’m sorry.”

“…Why?”

“Look, that whole night was a mess. I don’t mean to bring anything back. I know we said we’d move on, but- but that night was literally the darkest I’ve ever went through. Yeo, I lost it. I had a shit time. I lost control. So I just went with the first thing my brain wanted to do.”

“It’s because of me, right? It’s because of what I said.”

“I moved on from it. But only after that night. My first impulse was to do something that was bad for me just so I could pity myself later. It was dumb. It was childish. I know that. I just…I wanted to tell you. I just waited for the right time.”

“And what made you wait so long?”

“The fact that I’m happy now. I’m happy with you. I want to focus on us, on getting to know each other, on having a good time, on building a bond so strong, that no one else can cut through. I don’t…I don’t give a shit about the other guy. I forgot his name at some point too.” Wooyoung cupped Yeosang’s cheeks, warm at the touch, unbeaten by cold. “You’re the one I want to focus on. Not him.” 

His cheeks grew much cosier under his touch, but it only took one change of a glare for Wooyoung to realise that it was anger at hand. Or something less.

“And what did you do with him?”

That was his next guess.

“We went to a club. We danced. And he- he hugged me.”

“And?

Wooyoung was not a book that Yeosang could read.

Wooyoung was a book that Yeosang proofread.

“He kissed my neck. That was it. Then he drove me home. He wanted to have sex with me, but I said no.”

Yeosang took Wooyoung’s hands away form his face, and held them tightly instead.

“…We were doing warmups, and someone asked me ‘When are you gonna ask Wooyoung out’. I laughed it off. I think I said I’m too shy to ask you or something. That was when he went downstairs to you. And I felt like I lost it too. I was irrationally mad at him for doing that, and at you for playing along.” Yeosang explained, then buried his mouth and nose beneath his scarf, his eyebrows knitted together. His hands were so stubbornly down in his pockets once again, just to emphasise his sulkiness. Wooyoung pulled him in a hug nonetheless, kissing his forehead through his beanie. “…I guess we both lost it that night, huh.” He mumbled, his cheek squished against Wooyoung’s shoulder. 

“Sure did.” He tucked his nose underneath Yeosang’s scarf, nuzzling to his neck. “Ugh, you’re so warm.”

“And your nose isn’t cold at all.” He murmured, jolting up when Wooyoung pressed his nose further, giggling at Yeosang’s reaction.

“Sucks to be you.” His eyes fell closed, and his eyelashes brushed against the sensitive skin of Yeosang’s neck. “How hard would you punch me in the gut if I kissed you,” His words dimmed down, as the tips of his lips fell right underneath his jaw. “Here.”

He felt Yeosang hitch his breath, and soon, one arm came to wrap around his shoulder, and the other one to rest against the back of his head. “I wouldn’t.”

Wooyoung gathered him tighter in his arms and gently kissed him on the promised spot, but when he felt Yeosang not taking his arms back, he kissed him again. “Don’t be afraid to be honest with me, okay?” He said, lifting his head, and his thumb was now caressing Yeosang’s neck, right where he kissed him. “Whatever you feel, or whatever you have going on, especially if it’s about us, know that we can work it out. And if not, let’s just be annoying together. Let’s be jealous together. Let’s piss people off with how happy we can be.”

But to Yeosang, that spot was now numb, with only the ghost of a pair of two warm lips lingering. He, indeed, had no idea what he’s done his whole life to be this lucky. “Okay.”

Wooyoung linked their pinkies together, and they finally resumed their walk home.

Just the way Yeosang claimed to have gathered luck points throughout the years, he also seemed to unconsciously have gathered love from times his wasn’t returned, and his heart was going through Herculean lengths not to drown Wooyoung in all of it. At that time, and especially that night, he was so blinded by love, that his blood failed to keep him warm. 

Ever since he and Wooyoung got together, he started cleaning his house twice as often. He started measuring the ingredients again when cooking, although he also started eating less. He found himself sitting in the dark more often, although he hated it, and listening to the limerence ringing in his left ear, and love in his right. “Woo,” His heart would start going hummingbird speed at the thought of Wooyoung pulling him into a bear hug, and he’d smile as he’d imagine them sitting together as Wooyoung finished his drawings. “Thank you.” But almost every night, after this sequence of fantasies, Yeosang cried, and never did he find out why. “For saying you love me.”

His need to offer himself would always be overcome by fear, and a type on insecurity that it took Yeosang years to put to sleep. And now it was back awake.

“You don’t thank someone for that.”

And Wooyoung was absolutely right. ‘Thank you’ did not have its place as an answer to ‘I love you’, unless the love was, indeed, unrequited. The ‘I love you’ that Yeosang saved for Wooyoung, was safely kept in his core, in the back of his heart’s walls, along with the other things he had planned to give him.

They walked along the street where Yeosang lived. A neighbourhood of tall apartment complexes, one of the more modern ones, by the looks of it, with a small children’s park at the other end of the street. “That one.” Yeosang said, pointing at the building ahead. “Thank you for walking me home. And for talking to me.”

Wooyoung let out a sharp breath through his nose, as he smiled, but the muscles around his mouth seemed tensed, as if he was holding back a laugh. “You don’t thank someone for this either. Especially your partner.”

“No, I mean…I’m sorry if I’m too much. I’m sorry if I’m tiring.”

“How about you stop apologising for existing? Yeah you are tiring, but it would be really boring if you weren’t. I’m tiring too, and I know that, but I’m having a good time. And so should you. I love exhausting you.”

“I love it when you exhaust me too.”

“Good.” Wooyoung said, poking Yeosang’s nose.

What followed was another moment which seemed to catch the time off guard. Seconds in which no car passed by, no TV was humming from the fifth floor, no angry neighbour was doing the dishes late at night. The wind held in its breath in suspense.

Wooyoung laughed at how flustered Yeosang got while they were looking at each other.

He tucked his hair back and took off his right earring. A small, silver hoop, that he was seen wearing all the time. “Here.” And dropped it in the palm of Yeosang’s hand.

“Huh?”

“Have it.”

“Why?”

“Because this is my favourite pair. I never leave the house without these.” He said, and enclosed Yeosang’s hand around the earring. “It’s because I trust you with it. I trust you’ll always have it, okay? It’s like a promise.”

Yeosang nodded, shoved the ring in his pocket, and without thinking twice about it, he also took off his right earring. Two thin, silvery chains, with a pair of wings at the end of it. “Have this?”

“I’m taking it only if you trust me with it.”

Yeosang nodded his head once. “I do.”

Wooyoung looked at how the chains glinted in the amber light, and how much the tiny gemstone lying in between the wings stood out. He was more than sure that was the pair of earrings Yeosang wore when he first saw him.

Wrapped in silver. With the illusion of having grown wings.

Yeosang cleared his throat quietly, dragging his scarf over his chin. “Was wondering if you want to come over sometime next week? If you’re not too busy. If you’re busy, that’s fine.”

And suddenly the notion of University and deadlines disappeared from Wooyoung’s mind. “Sure.” He gave a promising smile. “I’ll see you soon?”

Yeosang drew closer, enveloping his arms around him, with his cheek right over his heart. “Yeah. Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

And as Wooyoung waved his hand goodbye and turned around to leave, Yeosang stood there to watch him as he arranged his collar, pulled his earphones out of his pocket. 

A few seconds later, Yeosang’s phone rang. 

“ _Hi, again_.” 

*

Wooyoung stood in front of the mirror, with the damp towel over his shoulders and only a pair of sweatpants on. In his hand he held Yeosang’s earring, and he was looking at it while picturing the face he made when he took it and gave it to him.

They had been talking until Wooyoung got home, and he did not know how to tell him that he needed to go. Yeosang was talking about the Artdeco style in jewellery worn in the 1920s, and it wasn’t the subject that interested Wooyoung, but the passion Yeosang spoke in. So he stood by the front door listening to him and agreeing with everything, until Yeosang realised he was rambling and apologised for approximately one minute.

“What’s that?” San asked, standing in the doorway with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He also had nothing but sweatpants on and he still had not dried his hair yet. He walked over to Wooyoung and kissed his temple.

“It’s Yeosang’s.”

“Did he lose it?”

“No. He gave it to me.” He said as he put the earring on.

“And where’s your other one?”

“I gave it to him.”

San took a small sip to hide his grin, then gave Wooyoung a teasing nudge. “See that’s the kind of stuff I want to see. That’s really cute of you. But I’m curious why.”

Wooyoung took the towel from around his shoulders and rinsed off the excess water from his hair, being careful not to get it hooked against the earring.

“I told him about what I did that night. He didn’t seem to take it lightly. I know he was trying to keep it cool.”

“Oh, was he jealous?”

“…I guess?”

“That’s kinda cute.”

“Is it though?”

“Yeah, It means he likes you a lot. You gonna ask him about it?”

“No.” Wooyoung decided, pulling his shirt on, and guiding San out of the bathroom, stealing his whiskey glass in the process. “I don’t want to encourage this ‘jealousy’ agenda, and I don’t want to make a joke out of it either…So I had this idea to exchange earrings to make him feel safe when I’m not around.”

San gave him a curious look,“You’re so…careful. I was gonna say it’s gross, but it’s not. What is this guy doing to you?”

“I don’t know. Is it bad? Am I doing too much?”

“I don’t think you are. I think you’re just ‘treating people the way you want to be treated’ and that’s great.” They were now in San’s room, where the margin of the bed was decorated with glass bottles. When he saw that the glass in Wooyoung’s hand was empty, he got back up and went to the kitchen. “The world is a shit place, Wooyoungie, and the way to fuck with the system is to be a good person because it pisses people off! Thanking someone and apologising takes more strength than telling someone to go fuck themselves, and that say a lot about the kind of society we live in.”

And this may or may not have been the one reason why Wooyoung fell in love with Yeosang all over again when he saw him that day. He knew that if it was anyone else, that person would have ran away and avoided him. He gave Yeosang all the love and credit in the world for not letting the matter fade.

“I know I always drag you, but I really think it’s cute that you always talk before going to bed.”San said, returning to the room with the entire whiskey bottle. He walked and spoke as if he was nowhere near dizzy. “And as much as I groan and make faces…I like hearing you talk to him.” He put the little glass aside and handed Wooyoung the entire bottle. It was half empty anyway. “I don’t know, it just makes me feel like the world isn’t as bad. That there’s couples out there who want what’s good for each other. Makes me feel hopeful.”

Wooyoung felt the same, but he was on the verge of having his emotions divulged on his face, so he was trying to keep his mouth closed to save himself from the embarrassment of speaking with a broken voice. He was tired, in love, and about to be dizzy.

“…I want to un-hurt him for everyone who’s ever broken his heart. And there’s a hole in my chest each time we part ways. And I’m scared because I don’t want this to be something obsessive. Or infatuation, or whatever.”

Between each of their lines, they passed the bottle to each other, as if it was a microphone, and they spoke to the audience that was the moon and stars and whoever lived on the floor below them and had their window open.

“Honey, if it was obsessive, you wouldn’t have tears in your eyes, and you wouldn’t sound so melancholic. It’s normal to want to be with that someone.” San said, rather wistful. Wooyoung rubbed his back. “Love is not a bad thing. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

What was most heart wrecking for Wooyoung was that San knew that better than anyone else.

“I feel like so few people gave him the chance he deserved.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Wooyoung pressed his lips in a thin like and rubbed his eyes free of tears. “I feel like he loved people, but they didn’t love him back, and it breaks my heart just thinking about it. He’s really precious, Sannie, he really is. He’s so…good. He has such a good heart. He’s not a bad person, and he deserves so many good things.”

“Yeah, that’s why he’s got you now. Because he deserves good things.”

“Stop it, I’m gonna cry for real.”

“…You’ve been crying a lot lately.”

“Yeah, I know. I hate it. It’s because I feel things. Intensely.”

“But I mean it. I don’t mean to bring back unwanted stuff again, but when you were dating Jaewon, everyone had a shit time. He drew you away from stuff you liked. He drew you away from me too. And you barely talked about him. So it’s nice to see you being emotional for good reasons.”

San shook the bottle to emphasise that there were several drops left, so he decided to be charitable and give it to Wooyoung, who downed everything as if it was the tears of his ex. San tucked himself in as he set his alarm for 3AM to start writing his stuff.

“Hey, did you tell him it’s your birthday this month?”

Wooyoung shook his head, collecting the rest of the glass bottles. “No.”

“He’d be pretty mad if he didn’t know.”

“I wanted to tell him, but I know he’ll be like ‘Please tell me what you want for your birthday’, and ‘You gotta want something’. And I don’t. I don’t want anything from him.”

*

“Please!”

“No.”

“You gotta want something.”

“I really don’t.”

“Then at least tell me what you want to do.”

“Listen, the ideal day for me is to be with people I can have a good time with. I want to eat stuff, and drink stuff, and laugh until my stomach hurts. That’s all.”

“Okay, noted, so what do you want for your birthday?”

“You.”

“…Anything else?”

“You. In a suit. With cat ears.”

“What else?”

“God, you really need to learn to take ‘I don’t want anything’ for an answer.”

Yeosang squinted his eyes, slightly annoyed. “I’ll ask you when you least expect it.” 

“And I’ll give you the same answer.”

Yeosang gave it up and went back to his vanity, organising his eyeshadow palettes in order of usage.

Wooyoung lied down on the sofa, head rested on a fluffy, crimson cushion that Yeosang had recently bought for his changing room for when he took naps there.

Earlier on that day Yunho asked the L’aubade group chat for anyone with a functioning camera to bring it in and take pictures of the club as well as the renovation process, and the dancers practicing. Wooyoung was the one up for it. He had finished his job, and now he was chilling with his boyfriend (lover) until his break was over.

He held his camera above him, adjusting and readjusting its setting, deleting and browsing through pictures. In other words, trying to appear busy as he waited for Yeosang to finish putting his make up on, but he was, however, still on his phone. And has been there for minutes, occasionally smiling and biting his lip. But not the kind of smile he put on when he was performing, or when he was on the phone with his sister. It was a kind of contemptuous smile, like people put on when they’re about to tear a rival to pieces and make them kiss their feet. Superior, if anything. Wooyoung looked at the phone’s reflection in the mirror, and he saw that Yeosang was scrolling through a comment section. He locked his phone and slapped it, screen down, against the vanity. Wooyoung gripped the camera tighter and stared at a specific photo he took in his hometown, of a squirrel with a leaf on top of its head. Over the camera’s screen, Yeosang propped his elbows against the table, linking his fingers underneath his chin. He tilted his head to the left, then to the right, then raised his chin, enough for the light to fall over his Adam’s apple and make it shine like a polished pearl. Yeosang then tilted his head back, and the light became a vertical line, down his collarbones.

And it was then when Yeosang looked at Wooyoung’s reflection, and met his eyes with a smile that did bad things to his heart. And before this love struck heart of his had time to register, his brain was already guiding his hands to the shutter and the zoom ring. And released it right before he met Yeosang’s not very happy glare, which softened once he turned around. “Let me see.” He said, crossing his arms over the chair’s backrest.

Wooyoung pouted his lips to hold back a smile, and continued to give Yeosang the silent treatment. 

“Let me see the picture.” He repeated, tapping his palm agains the backrest. “Woo, don’t ignore me.”

But Wooyoung was unfortunately living his best life pretending to ignore him. What he didn’t expect was for Yeosang to actually stand up, crawl over to Wooyoung, slotting himself in between his legs, then turning around as he dropped his entire weight over Wooyoung’s chest, punching his breath out of him. Wooyoung lifted the camera above his head, just above Yeosang’s reach. He eventually gave up and started checking his nails out and playing with his bracelet, until Wooyoung gave in and showed him the picture while peppering kisses on the crown of Yeosang’s head. “Oh, wow, I don’t look good,” Yeosang said, and Wooyoung took it as a personal offence.

“You do look good. You’re really pretty.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Wooyoung hummed quietly, then turned his camera off, placing it on the floor. He played with Yeosang’s hair until he felt him relaxing. Then he seized his waist and started tickling him wherever his hands reached. “You’re such a brat, I hate you!” Wooyoung said with his teeth grit, as he squeezed Yeosang’s cheeks with one hand, tilting his head enough for him to reach his cheek and kiss it. He wrapped his legs around Yeosang as well to keep him from moving. All while he was laughing and begging Wooyoung to stop. “I’m not letting you go.”

Yeosang inclined his head back, trying to meet Wooyoung’s eyes, although upside down. “On any other occasion, I would say don’t, but now I have to get ready.”

Wooyoung agreed, kissed his head one last time, and let him go. Yeosang did not seem to be in his element that day, and Wooyoung spent his every free second with him, making sure to visit him even for a little while when he had to run around getting things done.

That was the last night at the club before it would go into renovation, and also marked the last time Yeosang would ever perform his ‘Waning Moonstone’. A number inked in his blood, a series of movements he would know even amnesiac. A performance instilled between the tissues of his muscles rather than his mind. The only one he’s ever had the courage to show people more than twenty times, three of which were without rehearsing ahead.

Despite Yeosang being a human planner when it came to everything else, in L’aubade he had a reputation of getting brave when he was not supposed to. Sometimes he got away with it. Sometimes it ended up with a broken finger, a dislocated shoulder, and a split lip. He liked to believe that he learned his lesson. That night, he proved himself he didn’t.

Jubilee went on stage to announce the temporary closing of the club, and invited every dancer on stage to give their final bow. People plucked the flowers decorating their tables and tossed them on stage. Others threw rings and bracelets, and a particularly thin and gold one fell at Yeosang’s bruised feet. He glued his shoulder to Seonghwa’s, pretending to give him a side hug, when in reality he was holding onto him for balance. Seonghwa noticed this and held him back. Over the stage, there were white spotlights, switched to their brightest, and even the lounge lacked its usual dark red light. What Yeosang saw was something of a bokeh effect, with nothing to focus on. He was second to last to retreat backstage after greeting the guests properly, and as soon as he walked off from the audience, he dropped to his knees. And not a second later, Seonghwa rushed back to him, cupping his cheek. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Yeosang leaned his head forward, and shook his head once. “Dizzy. I’m okay.”

His eyes dropped closed, as the room seemed to spin less violently. Two arms picked him up by his shoulders and the back of his knees, and the next time he opened his eyes, he was alone in his own changing room. He had a vague memory of Seonghwa saying something and kissing his forehead. Running on autopilot, he dragged himself into the shower, and pushed the lethargy in his muscles to its extent as he peeled the costume off himself. He planned to pick it up when he was not under the risk of completely falling if he leaned over. Never did he expect for an immediate shower to make it worse. He’s learned that a shower could fix everything. With his forehead against the cold tiles, he scrubbed the glitters off him, all while counting to twenty, and then from twenty back to one. He sluggishly removed his makeup while scarcely trying not to fall asleep, and once again counting to twenty in a foreign language he didn’t speak. When he exited the shower, wrapped in his velour bathrobe, he found Wooyoung there, sitting at his vanity table, with a bag and a water bottle next to him.

“Hey, cutie. Heard you’re not feeling so hot. I got you water,” He wiggled the bottle in his hand and tossed it on the couch “And snacks. And an actual meal while I was at it. I know for a fact you survived on chocolate bars today.”

Yeosang let out an airy, exhausted giggle, gathering himself up. Wooyoung sat down next to him and handed him the bottle. “Please. At least a few sips.” And unscrewed the cap for him. 

In the meantime, Wooyoung rubbed his back gently, and leaned all the way back when Yeosang finished. “You wanna lean on me?” But instead, Yeosang dropped his head on his lap. “Or that.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this.” Yeosang’s voice came out in a full rasp. “I was supposed to be downstairs. With the people. And Jubilee said we gotta celebrate.”

Wooyoung ran his fingers through his hair and softly caressed his shoulder. “I’m gonna scold you when you feel better. Also, you’re coming home with me tonight.” Yeosang groaned in protest. “No, I don’t wanna hear that. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you. Jubilee said she’ll drive us.”

“I don’t need to. I’m fine.”

“Listen here, _Gemini_ , wrong time to be stubborn. You gotta take care of yourself-” 

“I know that.”

“Apparently, you don’t. If you’re not okay, you won’t be able to perform well, and if you keep pulling stunts like this, then you can say bye bye to your fire performance. Listen, it’s really not that difficult to eat and sleep.”

“You don’t know what I’m going through.”

“And why won’t you tell me what you’re going through? Do you want me to go over that whole ‘why it’s important to communicate’ talk again?” Wooyoung reproached, as quietly and calm as his anger allowed him.

Yeosang was unresponsive, and he took advantage of his mind’s lightness to make up a believable answer. But there was none. The easiest way he could explain what he had been going through was to directly blame Wooyoung, but that would have raised even more question marks.What got him into that state was a series of little events that had slowly built up. Things that seemed too out of a movie, that even Yeosang thought were untrue. He would be minding his own business around his house, until he would interact with a random object that would remind him of Wooyoung. The book he started not long ago, he would now read it in Wooyoung’s voice, or would imagine him reading it to him. The clothes he looked at while shopping, his first instinct was now to think if Wooyoung would like or wear them. Then he’d spiral into that same place. A mindset, rather. A mindset in which he’d notice how people interacted with each other, or how couples would hold hands, and he would take mental notes on how to perfect his hand holding technique. A mindset where he’d hear a song that Wooyoung liked, be it in a store or on a random playlist, and would somehow play on repeat in his mind, until his brain would get tired of it and his muscles would become sore and his knees weak. He’d sit in his bath until the water would become cold, as there was nothing to pull him out of his reverie, and he would often find himself so deep into his own mind, that he would forget to eat.

“Okay.”

But the worst of it all, was living with the sudden hallucinations that everyone in a black biker jacket filled with pins and badges was Wooyoung, and the amount of times he’s had creepy eye contacts with people made him want to leave the house less.

“Okay what?”

He worked so hard on his image as a partner, that he forgot to take care of the other sides of him. The one that earned him money, for example. That side of him has been the centrepiece ever since he noticed how much the public favoured him. But now that public has been reduced to one person. And he, on the other hand, reduced himself to a working machine to please that one person.

“I’ll come home with you.”

Until he’s had enough of it all, and searched it up. He’s had most symptoms of lovesickness, although he wasn’t lovesick. He was the two of these words separately, but never put together. But then, when he thought about it again, he could agree that what he had gone through was very similar to a cold. And he (unprofessionally said) sucked at colds. Every kind of cold.

“Okay.” And he got sick all over again when Wooyoung leaned over to kiss his cheek. He clenched his teeth at the contact, in order not to arch his neck and push his shoulders back. “I’ll go see if they need help downstairs. But in the meantime I want you to eat. At least a few tiny bites.” And kissed his cheek again. “Okay, kitty?”

Yeosang rubbed his cheek against Wooyoung’s thigh in a slight nod, but made no effort to get up. His cat would not have gotten up either.

“Can you not get up? Still feeling dizzy?”

He didn’t. He was too comfortable. Emotionally. But with an encouraging pat on the shoulder, he lifted himself up, and Wooyoung raised his hand to cup his cheek. “Is it okay? You good?” Yeosang nodded. “Promise?” Another nod. “Good.”

He kissed his forehead before getting up and placing the plastic bag in Yeosang’s lap. “Go on, then.” Before heading out the door.

Hongjoong was already in the middle of cleaning up the workshop for the day, and Seonghwa was already there to keep them company. Thankfully, Wooyoung saw the pink in their cheeks as soon as he opened the door, quickly threw a hello at them, and left them do their thing. Right in front of his costumes. He sent the guests off, along with Jubilee, bowing before them, and high-fiving the ones who were too drunk to lower their heads. He did not tell anyone about the guy who sled a post-it note with his number on it down his shirt, and made sure to throw it in the trash before heading back upstairs.

With the tips of the plastic fork still in his mouth, Yeosang was watching a video of someone giving a tour of a red coloured room. He seemed to have eaten quite a few bites, enough for Wooyoung not to nag him again. “Is the room still spinning?” He asked, extra proud when he saw the water bottle half empty. Yeosang shook his head, his eyes glued on the screen, on how immersed the two men doing a BDSM performance were in their roles. Wooyoung, on the other hand, was more impressed on how comfortable he was watching all that.

“Have you ever watched porn?” Wooyoung asked again, way too comfortable for Yeosang’s wellbeing. The room began spinning again, and he plastic fork fell out of his mouth when he whipped his head towards Wooyoung.

“Wh-What?! No!”

“Calm down. I’m just asking because you seem really cool with watching this.” He picked the fork back up, and squeezed Yeosang’s cheeks until his lips parted, securing the fork back in. “Eat.”

“I can’t.”

“You’ve had enough?”

“No. You made me uncomfortable.”

In any other circumstance, Wooyoung would have apologised, but the cute and bratty manner in which Yeosang said that made him laugh. He was one sentence away from pouting.

Wooyoung ruffled his hair, and resumed watching the two men performing. One was tying the other up before laying him on a lacquer table on his back, and when the dominant clipped the clasps around the submissive’s nipples, Wooyoung could see the fork moving up and down in Yeosang’s mouth, and he could only assume that he was biting it. But then he pulled it out again and picked one last kimbap before finally exhaling.

The dominant was tugging on the nipple clasps, and Yeosang’s eyebrows arched upwards at how loudly the submissive whimpered, although two seconds later, he ended up being flogged for not being quiet.

“I’ve always wanted to try rope modelling.” Yeosang said, his shoulders slightly hunched forward, his hands shyly placed together over his lap, a position far too innocent for what he just confessed. Wooyoung regretted not recording it.

But that was okay, because that sentence was going to haunt him for however long his and Yeosang’s relationships going to last.

As Yeosang turned his head at the lack of response from his boyfriend, he saw Wooyoung clenching his fist against the couch’s backrest. His eyes were still on the screen, although the video ended seconds ago. “How come?”

“I love the detail that goes into it. The knots look like flowers. It’s like someone is making you flower crowns, but for your body.”

Wooyoung stood up and started clearing Yeosang’s vanity table, gathering up the stained makeup wipes and discs in a ball before throwing them away, and organising his accessories back in their vintage jewellery box.

“Was that too much?” Yeosang went on, apologetically.

“No. Don’t worry.”

Although that was a good question. What was too much when it came to him? He saw a man in heels stepping on his crotch, and that wasn’t too much. He saw him in his near naked glory during his Neo-burlesque striptease number, and that was the closest he’s ever felt to ‘too much’.

“Would you be against it? If I did this?”

“Yes.” Wooyoung’s eyes shot wide at the strictness of his answer. “I mean, it’s your body. You do what you feel comfortable with it.”

“But you said you’d be against it.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean that.”

A pause followed. One in which Yeosang expected Wooyoung to look back at him, and when he didn’t: “Don’t be so permissive with me.”

Once upon a time, on the first occasion when San brought Russian alcohol home and got drunk on it, he started talking about astrology, numerology, and from that, somehow, he ended up warning Wooyoung that he should be wary of Gemini. Obviously, back then he paid it no mind, but the skill that Yeosang was exerting in building his sentences triggered that memory in Wooyoung’s mind. This is what San meant.

“Okay.” Wooyoung picked Yeosang’s clothes up and tossed them in his lap. “I won’t.”

The drive home was quiet from Yeosang’s side, and awkward from Wooyoung’s. They were each looking out the window with only their hands touching, and Yunho was eyeing them suspiciously through the rear mirror, although he hadn’t said anything. He hugged them both and forced them to report him anything about Yeosang’s current physical state. He looked better, a bit light headed and less witty than usual, but fine. When they turned the lights on in the hallway, Wooyoung noticed that Yeosang’s cheeks were flushed. “Are you having a fever?”

“I don’t know, am I?” He took his beanie off and swept his bangs back, waiting for Wooyoung to touch his forehead.

“I mean, you’re warmer than usual. You know what, I ain’t taking no risks, I’ll draw you a bath.” He took off his jacket, hooked it against the hanger, and took his shoes off, tossing them wherever they landed. Yeosang picked them up and carefully aligned them with the rest of the pairs. “Hey, dickhead!” Wooyoung shouted, and Yeosang was frozen with shock, thinking that it was him he was talking to. “Sannie?” Wooyoung called, much softer.

“What if he’s sleeping?” Yeosang whispered.

“He literally never sleeps.” Wooyoung headed to San’s room, to find a big piece of paper taped to his door, reading:

‘My heart is ill and love bruised. I will travel along with the moon, and fight solely underneath her rays, and when the sun will arrow at my heel, I shall return.’

“Oh, no, who broke his heart?”

“Ugh,” Wooyoung considered, as San never gave him any instructions on keeping his love life secret. If he came back drunk, he was going to tell Yeosang more than he knew, probably. “He’s in love with this guy named Jongho. And they’re like, pulling this forbidden love shit on me.”

“…Does his full name happen to be Choi Jongho?”

Wooyoung opened his mouth to say he doesn’t know, but then he remembered the last time San came home drunk, and laughed with tears in his eyes (so he cried, basically) over how he and Jongho have the same name and how happy it made him. “Yeah. I think?”

“And is he still in high school?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And does he frequent the club?”

“They did meet at the club, yeah. What, you know him?”

“I do. I didn’t know they were a thing. It’s kind of cute. The world is so small.”

“No, they’re not a thing yet. It-It’s complicated.”

Wooyoung swayed his hand in the air to brush the subject away. “In my room, in the wardrobe, the second drawer. There’s a bunch of pairs of sweatpants there. Choose whichever.” He said as he rolled his sleeves up and made his way to the bathroom.

“Which ones do you want, though?”

“I meant for you.”

“…You’re letting me wear your clothes?”

Wooyoung turned back around to him and gently flicked his forehead. “God damn, I can tell you’ve been single your whole life.”

“Listen here,” Yeosang pretended to snap, but to Wooyoung he seemed like nothing more than a kitten hissing at a toy he’s never seen before. “One day I’ll start calling you out and dragging you to the end of the world, and you’ll regret being this mean to me.”

“What if I tell you that the reason I’m teasing you so much is because I love you?” He arched his eyebrow, tilting his head. “Because I want to see all your reactions, and how cute you are?” 

“I would say ‘I don’t believe you’.”

Wooyoung pinched his cheek and made the same sound old ladies do when they see a baby, and while Yeosang was busy being mad, he went back to preparing the bath. After that, he let Yeosang alone in the bathroom, wished him good luck for some reason, and closed the door behind him. 

“Do you want me to keep you company?”

“Huh? How?”

“I could…stay here, by the door.”

“I mean,” Yeosang trailed on, as a piece of his clothing fell on the floor. “If you want?”

“I know babies get lonely easily, so…”

“You know what, I don’t need you here. Go."

“Okay.”

“Wait, no, sit down.”

Wooyoung snickered quietly, leaning his head against the door, and with his eyes closed, he focused on the sounds from the other side of it.

“Tell me something.” Yeosang said after a while.

“Like what?”

“Things you did. In school. In Uni.”

Wooyoung forgot to think, and instead he listened to the soft sounds of water rippling around, and he thought about how only Yeosang could sink himself in water so quietly.

“Have you ever gone through your emo phase?”

Wooyoung laughed, and he caught a glimpse of Yeosang giggling too. “Yeah, totally.”

“Me too.”

“You’re still going through your emo phase.”

“Shut up. I used to be really proud of it. Like it was more than a part of me.”

“‘It’s not a phase, mom!’”

“And ‘Why can’t you accept me the way I am’!…Little did I know I was going to say the same thing to her when she’ll find out I like boys.”

“You told her?”

“No, I’m too scared. But I guess they started to suspect something.”

“But do they know you’re happy here?”

“I can’t tell them that. They’ll bring up the whole high school situation again. They do that every time. I’m tired of it.”

Wooyoung hummed, and nodded to himself. He’s been thinking a lot about Yeosang’s situation, and about what he would say to him if it started burdening him. What he was most afraid of was him feeling inferior in any way, but Wooyoung did not have the right words in him to prove him that he shouldn’t be. And he also couldn’t help but think there was something more to the story. His high school days hadn’t been the best either.

Wooyoung adjusted his position and leaned his head back against the door. He lazily scrolled through his phone, although nothing interesting had happened, besides San updating his stories every five minutes.

“Are you happy?” Yeosang asked, and Wooyoung waited until the quiet splashing sounds stopped.

“…Happier than I was a few months back.”

“Because you found a job you’re happy with?”

“No,” Wooyoung set his phone down, and stared into the distance. “You.”

“Huh?”

“I said,” He gulped, and tilted his head towards the door. “It’s because of you.”

“Oh.”

Wooyoung lied down on the floor, linking his hands at the back of his head. On the other side, Yeosang was staring at that little black line in between the floor and the door. His heart was beating faster than usual because of the heat, and the room finally fell still. He buried his eyes in his palms and allowed himself to smile as widely as he could. His heart felt ticklish, but that didn’t go well with his nausea, as much as it was in the process of wearing off, so he quietly proceeded to wash and rinse. For the second time in his life, he hadn’t fallen asleep in the bathtub, and he finished his bath before the water got cold. But his heart was needy.

“I’m done.” He said.

Wooyoung stood up and left some distance between him and the door. He was going to coo at how rosy Yeosang’s cheeks looked, but his breath fell still in his lungs, as two arms wrapped around his waist, and a forehead resting on his shoulder. Wooyoung hugged him back, caressing Yeosang’s moist and warm hair, the other hand secured around his upper back. “You okay?” Yeosang nodded.

“You make me happy too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Yeosang looked at him, his eyebrows slightly knitted together. As soon as he raised his head, Wooyoung poked his nose.

“How can you prove that I make you happy?”

“…Someone’s fishing for compliments.”

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best.”

Yeosang gave him a soft smile, as his hands went to rest on his waist, and just when Wooyoung thought he was going to do something tender and sweet, he pressed his fingers against his ribcage, earning a squeak from Wooyoung.

“You never cease to surprise me with how loud you can be.”

“You know what, I was waiting for the day you’ll complain about me being loud. Also, you haven’t seen my final form yet. I have ten levels of loud.”

“And what level was that?”

“Four.”

“I’m telling you now, your levels of loudness are gonna have to decrease to seven if you want to keep me around.”

“I bet you have like two levels of loud.”

“Three. Four on a good day. Five when I’m screaming. And I only scream once a year.”

“A specific time of year?”

“Yes. When I have enough of…myself. I scream, and then I act like nothing happened.”

“…Valid.” Wooyoung agreed, as he surely could relate. He went to get himself a change of clothes, to find Yeosang sitting by the door the same way he did earlier. “Aw, you’re gonna keep me company?” Yeosang nodded, not lifting his eyes up from his phone. “You know, you could…join me in there. I don’t mind.”

Yeosang locked his phone, shoved it into the hoodie’s front pocket, and abruptly stood up. “Goodbye.” He said, while bowing his head. He went back to Wooyoung’s room and shut the door behind him.

Wooyoung laughed, loud enough to be heard from two rooms away, and throughout his shower, he was unable to contain his smile. One thought that popped into his head several days ago was to tell his parents about his relationship. But he postponed it as often as he procrastinated. To him, it was never a problem about it being too soon, although he himself knew it was. He was excited more than anything to show Yeosang to the world.

After he finished drying his hair, he went back to his room, but instead of lying down next to Yeosang, he dropped his entire weight over him, knocking the breath out of his lungs in the process. But before Yeosang had time to push him away, Wooyoung wrapped his arms around his waist and rocked them together left and right, as he nuzzled to his chest. Under him, Yeosang tried to appear unbothered again, paying attention to the battle he was engaging in his game. “If you keep doing that I’m gonna drop my phone on your head.” Yeosang warned him, but Wooyoung did not heed.

“If you love me, you won’t drop it.”

Yeosang hummed, almost as if he agreed, but not even five seconds later, Wooyoung felt something hard, but not sharp enough, hit the crown of his head. “Oh, man, my bad, I didn’t mean it.” Yeosang said, with zero emotion in his tone.

Wooyoung lifted his head up and snatched Yeosang’s phone and placing it next to him. As Yeosang attempted to lift himself up to retrieve it, Wooyoung pinned him back down by his wrists. Yeosang’s breath hitched in his throat, and his fists balled up, and it was the way his jaw contracted that made Wooyoung want to release him. “I’m sorry,” He said, caressing Yeosang’s wrists with his thumbs. “I was just playing around. I wasn’t gonna do any-”

“Come back.”

“Huh?”

Yeosang visibly swallowed, placing his hands where they were before. “You can do it.”

“You freaked out.”

“I know. Sorry. You can do it now.”

Wooyoung shook his head once, with a tenderhearted look in his eyes. He leaned forward to kiss Yeosang’s forehead, then he scooted back until he sat down little below his groin for obvious reasons. “I’ll just sit here.”

“And what?”

“And look at you. Because you’re pretty.”

“You can lean your head here.” Yeosang said, tapping his chest. “I don’t mind.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, and thought about it. He went to lie down next to Yeosang, tossing his leg and arm over him, and resting his head on his shoulder instead. “Better.”

And Yeosang loosely linked his arms around his shoulders, rubbing his cheek against Wooyoung’s hair.

They did not need to look at each other to know what they had both closed their eyes, but were just as uncomfortable to fall asleep in that position. Wooyoung leaned his hand over Yeosang’s heart and idly caressed the area with his thumb. The smell of his cologne had almost faded, but even so, Wooyoung nuzzled to his favourite spot on Yeosang’s neck. “Can I kiss you here?”

Yeosang breathed out quietly, his fingers on Wooyoung’s shoulders twitching. “Yeah.”

Brushing the tip of his tongue against the promised area beforehand, Wooyoung leaned his lips on the spot little behind Yeosang’s ear, making sure to leave a pleasing kissing sound behind. His hand trailed upwards, little under Yeosang’s collarbones, tugging lightly at the fabric. “Can I kiss you here too?”

Yeosang nodded his head shyly, tilting his chin upwards, and shutting his eyes, his skin expectant. He wanted him to continue, to give him more kisses when he promised just one like he did last time, but instead he lied back down in his place.

“You don’t have to ask me.”

“No offence, but I’m scared one day you’ll whack me in the face if I approach you without warning.”

A quiet moment followed, one in which Wooyoung assumed Yeosang was pouting, or indeed getting offended, and he was about to play along, until Yeosang said: “I’m really sorry.”

Wooyoung quickly stood up to look at him, to further confirm the tone of his voice. Yeosang looked away from him, but his hands still lingered on Wooyoung’s body.

“I was joking, sugar. You don’t have to be sorry for anything.”

“…I won’t hit you.”

Wooyoung giggled, leaning in to kiss Yeosang’s temple. “I know.”

It followed a moment when neither of them had anything in particular to say, so Wooyoung asked him about the game he was playing earlier. He was more than entertained to watch his boyfriend defeating everyone and claiming all the rewards and have his name appear first in the ranks. He was weirdly proud. Then Wooyoung also downloaded the game and Yeosang invited him into his guild of which he was the leader of. He was kind of offended that he was such an important figure on the server, until other people started welcoming Wooyoung to the guild, and Yeosang introduced him as his boyfriend. He was even more surprised to find out that everyone knew he was a dancer and an aerialist, and often checked out videos of his performances.

Then somehow the topic changed to makeup, and from makeup to nail polish. Wooyoung found out for the first time that Yeosang always carried nail polish with him, but because he was always on the move he never had time to paint them. He also expressed how much he loved painting other people’s nails, and Wooyoung, never missing the chance to be a top model boyfriend, asked him if he wanted to paint his. The way Yeosang’s eyes sparkled made Wooyoung want to catapult himself into the moon, but that was a subject for another time.

In between painting each nail, Wooyoung took the little break as an excuse to kiss his forehead, and at one point, he leaned in to kiss him at the same time when Yeosang leaned in to paint his next nail, and the impact early left Wooyoung unconscious. If he had his eyes closed, he would have thought someone punched him in the mouth. And Yeosang, being the sweet and gentle and caring boyfriend he was, he said: “That’s what you deserve for moving. I told you to sit still.” But in the end, he apologised. Not a heartfelt one, but enough for Wooyoung to drag him for it. The black nail polish reminded him of the day he put black nail polish on his lips because neither him or his mom owned black makeup, and he wanted to see how he looked. Yeosang had nothing to comment on that, but by the look on his face, he wanted to say something like ‘What a Wooyoung thing to do’. In other words, stupid.

After his nails finished drying up, he lied back down with Yeosang next to him. He took Wooyoung’s hand to see if he stained the skin around the nails, but he ended up honing his craft and praising himself because there was no one else in the room who appreciated his talent. Wooyoung took the hint and praised him, in the end.

“Woo,”

“Yeah.”

Yeosang sunk his cheek into the pillow, hugging it tightly, enough for his lips to hide behind his shoulder. Even in the weak lamplight the pink of his cheeks was so vibrant, and his hair shone bronze. There was one curly lock sticking out, which made it look like a little horn. Wooyoung loved looking at it. He loved looking at him in general, and there were times when he wasn’t around when he asked himself why he couldn’t keep his hands or his lips away from him. But when his eyes would find him again, he understood why.

“Do you not like my performances?”

Wooyoung lifted himself up to drop his chin into his palm, playing with the corner of his pillowcase. “Of course I do.”

“Then why are you not watching me?”

“Careful. It’s not like I never watch you. There’s only some that…make me feel different.”

Yeosang stared, and his eyes burned into Wooyoung’s skin, and it wasn’t in a pleasing ways. He stared like he was in the process of hypnotising Wooyoung to make answers roll off his tongue.

“The burlesque ones.”

“Yes.”

“…Am I not good at it?”

“You are. That’s the thing. You’re really good at it.”

“Do they make you cringe?”

“No. Never.”

“Then how do they make you feel?”

“Take a hint, genius.”

But in the back of his head, he hoped he wouldn’t get the hint. He hoped he would drag the conversation until something happened. He prayed for a _Deus Ex Machina_ where San would just miraculously appear and save him some embarrassment.

The story behind that was one that Wooyoung was not very proud of. He went through something of a living nightmare when he saw those men sticking their hands into their pants when they saw his boyfriend’s performance. He felt warm in all the right places each time Yeosang met his eyes, each time he bit his lip, tossed his head back, or when a piece of clothing peeled off him. On both occasions, he had to excuse himself and run to the bathroom. When he excused himself the first time, he locked himself in the bathroom stall and proceeded to unbuckle his belt, when he realised that, if he had continued to do what he meant to, he would have been no different than those men in the lounge. He would have been the same, taking Yeosang for granted, as nothing more but a sexual object, and reducing his hard work to something out of an adult movie. To Wooyoung, Yeosang was so much more, and it had been that way since the day he got to know him better. What he had always felt for him was strictly pure, although he was never going to deny that he did slip several times. He had been in the position of a spectator, where he did not feel guilty to let his desires and instincts run wild, but now things were different. Now he found himself before a person who unconsciously taught him the importance of loving someone with your mind and heart first. So what happened in the end was that he put his belt back on and waited for his boner to cool the hell down. All while distracting himself with his game.

He knew all this, and he had made peace with it. Now, there was no way for him to tell this to Yeosang without making it sound wrong. The only other option was slightly offending him.

So he went for it.

“I don’t think of you that way.”

Yeosang’s shoulders relaxed. He slightly let go of the pillow.

“I don’t get it.”

“When you performed that. I felt things.”

“Things, as in…”

“Yeah.”

Yeosang’s expression shifted to one as gentle as it was demanding.

“And is that bad?”

“No. I just don’t think of you that way.”

With his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, Yeosang looked away from him, his eyes wandering around, and Wooyoung could tell he was struggling.

“What I feel for you is not sexual. Like, at all.”

Yeosang found his eyes again, and the expression on his face was similar to the one he had when he left the room after Wooyoung confessed. Therefore, he was ready for any answer given out of panic.

“Me too.” He said. Quite the opposite of what Wooyoung had expected. He, however, knew. “But I don’t mind it when you —I mean, I know I freak out, but it’s okay when you…surprise me. I’m okay with it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Wooyoung taunted, giving Yeosang nothing but one second to register, before roughly tucking him into his arms, then wrapping his legs around him too. He nuzzled to the nape of his neck, then blew over the short hairs before pressing a kiss there. “You like it when I surprise you like this?” And uncontrollably smiled at the way Yeosang laughed, and how he squeaked when he bit his ear.

Yeosang was in Wooyoung’s arms like two lovers sealed together. One arm was around his shoulder, and the other was holding Yeosang’s. He was squirming and giggling, but had never told Wooyoung to stop, nor made any sound of protest. However, when Wooyoung ceased his ministrations, Yeosang tried to turn around, scared of another surprise. As he opened his mouth to ask, Wooyoung said: “God, I love you so much.” As he kissed his way down to the nape of his neck, and once again nuzzled to the warm spot. “So fucking much.”

Yeosang felt a smile in his voice, but not a very happy one. At a time like that, he refused to face him, and instead adjusted his position into his arms so he could hold him just the way he wanted to. He dedicated all of his attention to the way Wooyoung’s heart beat in the palm of his hand, and he thought about how intimate it felt.

How much more intimate it felt to have someone’s life run through him that way. His pulse felt so clear, as clear as water ripples, and strong enough to make his blood run through his veins like a mirror to Wooyoung’s.

It hadn’t been that long ago when Yeosang was alone in his house with the cat sleeping on his chest when he thought how Wooyoung’s voice would sound if he said those words to him. He imagined it, but the film would always cut when it would be his turn to answer, and he never knew why. In books and movies, as much as he liked the romance in them, he often rolled his eyes when the characters would say I love you. Either because it was to soon, or misplaced.

Although Wooyoung made fun of him for having been single his whole life, Yeosang never saw it as a bad thing in terms of how he lived his inner life. Since he was never in a relationship, he had a lifetime to think about how it would be. One day he thought of love as watchmaking. Of all the tiny parts and crystals and cogwheels and springs, and of all the meticulous work that goes into it for the watch to work properly.

The best thing about Wooyoung was that he already knew, and by the way he acted towards him, he agreed that it wasn’t easy. But somehow, he was doing it right.

The I love you he just uttered, was right. And unfortunately for Yeosang, was rightfully placed as well. The moment was right, the place, the time of night, the spot his lips laid on when he said it, the curse word, the repetition, the appeal to the divinity.

It was planned well. Better than Yeosang ever could.

Yeosang raised his head to look at him, not because he wanted to, but because Wooyoung deserved it. It had been around one minute in which he failed to answer, and also one minute in which he thought of all the places and times of night he could have said it back. His palm was warm, but the tips of his fingers were getting colder the higher his hand reached Wooyoung’s face. His heart was drumming in his neck, in his wrists, and with each beat, his hand trembled. When his hand found the smoothness of Wooyoung’s cheek, his heart seemed to beat below its normal speed. Wooyoung was someone who had given him the permission to explore him, but even so, Yeosang was afraid to. Every time he touched him in places that weren’t his hand, he felt the need to ask and apologise. His brain was yelling at him to take his hand back, but his heart demanded to have his thumb run across his lips. For once, he listened to his heart. 

However, as soon as his thumb reached the corner of his lips, they heard the front door unlocking. Yeosang pulled his hand back, and Wooyoung was quick to grab it and kiss it. He gave him a gentle smile and kissed his thumb too, close to grinning when Yeosang looked away.

Neither of them would have moved if they hadn’t heard a loud thud coming from the hallway. Surprisingly, Yeosang was the one who rushed towards the door first.

San was with his back against the wall, and his face buried to his knees. Then, Yeosang stood behind, leaving the other two to have their moment.

“Sannie, what’s wrong?” Wooyoung asked, sitting down on the floor and softly massaging the nape of San’s neck.

San shook his head, quietly sniffling. Wooyoung sighed and went to take San’s boots and jacket off before picking him up in his arms and taking him to the living room. “Where were you?”

“Just out.”

“And did something happen?”

“Nah.”

Wooyoung nodded for the moment and went to bring San his tissue box, because every student is bound to have one.

“I got emotional ‘cause I drunk called Jongho earlier. ’N I didn’t mean to. But I jus’ wan’ned to hear his voice…’n I got sad.”

“Oh, bless you.” Wooyoung hugged him, and over his shoulder, him and Yeosang smiled at each other. 

“…’N I said I love you. I hate it. I dunno why I said that. I dunno. I’m mad. I’m really mad.”

“…And did he say I love you back?”

San’s lower lip started trembling, “Yeah,” and Wooyoung knew it was time for an ugly cry, so he hugged him, but when he looked over, Yeosang wasn’t there anymore. “Yeah, he did. He laughed and he said ‘I luh you more than you luh me’. And…And I got so sad! But like, happy too. I jus’…I’m happy he’s a thing.”

“He’s a thing?”

“Ye, like, he’s real. We don’t appruh-shee-ate people enough for being real. And for existing, you know. We don’t appreshuh- Fuck this word —Say thank you for people for existing, and, Wooyoungie, I think we should! People make us happy. You should tell Yeosangie ‘I’m so glad you exist, you bitch!’. You should tell him.”

Wooyoung tossed his head back to laugh in the heartiest way his heart wanted, and from the other room, he heard Yeosang laughing too.

“What?”

“Nothing, just-” He chuckled, getting himself back in his normal sitting position “He’s here.”

“Who?”

“Yeosangie.”

“Oh, why didn’t you say so?”

San stood up too suddenly for Wooyoung to register, and went to his room, stumbling against his slippers in the process. He opened the door to Wooyoung’s room and stood there still. “You’re here! I thought he was lying!” He went in and one second later he was guiding a Yeosang who did not want to be there out of the room. “Wooyoung has something to tell you.”

“Oh, does he?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, you want me to say it now?”

“If you don’t say it now, you’ll forget. I know you.”

“But have you said this to Jongho?”

San stuck his phone out of his back pocket and waved it triumphantly in the air. “I got this.”

As a matter of fact, Yeosang was still in San’s hold, and he wrapped himself all around him again when they sat down. Wooyoung did not know how to tell him not to do that.

“What did you want to tell me?”

Wooyoung sighed, gathering up all the emotions he had before. There was a better time and hour of the night to say this. “I wanted to thank you for existing.”

Yeosang pulled his sleeves over his hand and hid his face under them. San hugged him tighter and rocked him left and right. He counted several seconds on the clock, much more than Yeosang needed to answer, and he was not happy with the “Me too.” He gave.

Releasing Yeosang from his embrace, San leaned back next to him and, while looking at the ceiling, he began reciting: “ _I am a restrained person.Otherwise my heart would race past my tongue to pour out everything. Instead I mumble, I gnaw myself. I lose hope. And my mind is burning_.”

“What’s this?”

“An Oresteia: Agamemnon by Aeschylus. Lines 695 to 701. That was for you. Think about it.” 

Yeosang nodded and gave San the phone to type the quote down. And give him other book recommendations about the Greek view on love while he was at it. He handed Yeosang’s phone back, but held it tight enough so he won’t take it. When Yeosang eyed him confusedly, San asked: “Go for a walk with me.” All of a sudden, leaving the other two speechless for a moment. “I need to talk to you.”

With a knowing nod, Yeosang turned around and went to get his coat, with no second thoughts.

“Am I missing something?” Wooyoung asked, and unfortunately his question was left unanswered, besides Yeosang giving him a reassuring smile. “Can you go, though? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

San walked past them without bothering to remove his boots or jacket. “Imma go take a piss first.”

Wooyoung waited until he heard the bathroom door lock. “I don’t know what this is about but don’t let him buy more alcohol.” Wooyoung said, buttoning up Yeosang’s coat.

“Okay.”

What Yeosang wanted to say, however, was to invite Wooyoung to come along because he was scared of being alone with San. Last time he checked, San had threatened him. The threat itself was vague, and Yeosang had indeed redeemed himself since, but he knew how aggressive and over protective friends could get. But once Wooyoung left him to go make some food, Yeosang had ten seconds left to make up his mind. He was going to prove himself innocent, and show San that he can love Wooyoung as much as he does. If not more.

San went on ahead, with no intention of waiting for Yeosang, who did not leave the apartment door until he heard it lock. Then he rushed to catch up with San.

He looked at his profile, at his exhausted eyes and the purple underneath them. His dark hair was tied back into a tiny ponytail, and two strands at the front were covering his face. He had not said anything for the first minutes.

Yeosang waited at the red traffic light, raising to his tippy-toes, then going back down, then rising again. He saw San going on ahead when there were no cars coming their way, and when he saw the Yeosang failed to follow until the light turned green, he decided to wait. Once he caught up, San smiled at him for the first time since they left.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you back then. When I texted you, I mean.”

Yeosang stuck his hands in his pockets, hiding his mouth under the collar. “It’s okay. I totally deserved it.”

“Yeah, you did, but like…I didn’t wanna make it worse for you.”

“That night was wild. Wooyoung and I agreed to never bring it up again.”

“Yeah, it was awful. I won’t bring it up anymore either. But I just wanted to make sure we’re cool.”

“We are. I was never mad at you.”

San gave him an appreciative smile and wrapped an arm around Yeosang’s shoulders.

They walked around the isles with the basket swinging off of San’s elbow, with nothing particular in mind to buy. At one point, Yeosang was at the frozen foods and ice cream isle, when he noticed that San wasn’t next to him. He went to search for him, stopping by to get his hot chocolate packets in the process. He found San looking through alcohol bottles, tapping the fridge’s glass doors as he was walking along them. “No.” Yeosang said sharply, taking his hand away. “You drank enough.”

San scoffed. “And how do you know how much I drank.”

“Enough for Wooyoung to ask me not to let you get anything…Please.”

“Yeah well,” He took the hot chocolate packets from Yeosang’s hand and tossed them in the basket. “I couldn’t give two shits about what he thinks.”

Over San’s shoulder, Yeosang noticed someone peeking at them, and to avoid making a scene, he gave in and picked a beer bottle with a low alcohol content. “This. You’re not getting anything else.”

San rolled his eyes to the back of his head, and snatched the bottle from him.

From there on, he hasn’t raised his head from the ground, and Yeosang even had to tap his shoulder to remind him that he was next in line. He remembered how Wooyoung said they’re both into debunking myths, so Yeosang kept that in mind in case San was ever remotely thinking about going overboard.

San dropped down on the concrete sill with so much force, that Yeosang thought he fell, but he only found him hunched forward, sitting down with the beer bottle in between his thighs, trying to pop it open with his keys. They were one block away from their apartment, and the street was clear of people. Yeosang grabbed his phone inside his pocket, with the intention of messaging Wooyoung, but he placed the bag down and sat next to San, taking the bottle and opening it himself. “I’m not gonna tell him,” He promised, not handing San the bottle back until he returned his smile. “But don’t do this to yourself.”

There were movies that San watched where the best friends were BFFs with the boyfriends, and everything was ideal, and there was no envy and jealousy, and over the years, he came to the conclusion that this sort of stuff doesn’t happen. San dated people who disliked Wooyoung, and Wooyoung’s ex refused to believe that he and San were just best friends and not his side-boyfriend.

But that night, as intoxicated as he was, Yeosang seemed to sparkle brighter and louder than the alcohol he was holding.

“I want a boyfriend like you,” San did his best to say without choking. “You,” He ran his hand in a water wheel motion to indicate that he was trying to continue. “You smart,” And slapped Yeosang’s thigh. “You loyal,” Slapped it again, even harder. “You grateful,” Then pointed his index finger right over Yeosang’s nose. “I appreciate that.”

“Why does that sound so familiar-”

“DJ Khaled.”

“DJ Khaled, okay. Yeah.”

“No but like,” He spoke as he lifted the beer bottle to his lips, but miscalculated, and took a sip right in the middle of his speech, and ended up choking so bad, that Yeosang regretted not having called Wooyoung. The only drunks he’s ever had to deal with was Yunho, who did nothing but sext Mingi and cry over how much he misses him, and Seonghwa, who complained about how the worst part about being gay is actually liking men.

He held San up so he won’t smash his forehead against the concrete, and even wiped his mouth with his own sleeve. “But like listen!” He tried again, once his throat was clear. “He loves you, and…And he talks about you, and- and…And he talks about you a lot,” He trailed his words asis his tongue was numb “How cute you are, and- and it’s cute! Because he cries!”

“He cries?”

“Yeah, he cries! Why you deaf?” Yeosang laughed and gestured for him to continue. “He cries because he loves you! And that’s so cute! You’re cute! And-” He slapped his mouth and leaned forward, another wave of anxiety having filled Yeosang’s chest. He wasn’t ready for whatever San was about do to. He moved out of the way in case he wanted to throw up.

Turned out that San was about to cry again. Yeosang rubbed his back soothingly, his other hand resting over San’s wrist so he won’t drop the bottle. “And I just want him to be happy! Because I love him! And I…You…I just-” He set the bottle down and cupped both of his hands over his eyes. “I think you’re,” His voice cracked, like his entire body wanted to cry, but his eyes. “I think you’re good for him.” And from there started the proper breakdown. With his forehead pressed to Yeosang’s chest and his tears soaking into the fabric of his coat, his fingers trembling around his forearm, San cried quietly, with his teeth clenched together so he won’t break into sobs.

Back at the club, Yeosang witnessed a lot of people crying, in many different ways, and because of twice as many reasons. In the bathroom stalls, because someone rejected them, sitting over the toilet seat with their faces sunk in their hands. In the lounge, because a certain song reminded them of who knows whom, with their foreheads buried into the crook of their elbows. Backstage, because so many performers were not confident or still dealt with stage fright, all curled up into a ball. Yunho, because the responsibilities of an entire establishment were too much for only a pair of hands, when it was meant to be for four. He cried proudly, quietly sniffling while signing papers, and getting angry when tears would stain the document. Hongjoong, when their self esteem would drain from their eyes, and they’d fan their hands over them not to stain their cheeks with mascara, and laugh when people would ask if they’re crying.

Yeosang’s seen everyone cry, and he liked to believe that by now he was able to identify the cause of one’s sorrow by the way they were crying. But, surprisingly, San cried like no one else.

San cried like the night Yeosang did when he and Wooyoung exchanged earrings. He dropped down on his knees and held the earring in between his palms, clutching it to his chest as if it was a symbol of grace. He cried until even his deaf cat started to worry, and it took two more breakdowns and a hot shower for him to figure it out. He had put his earring on, and realised it was a weight he was not ready to carry.

The weight of a happiness a person could bring, but he found himself unworthy for. San cried the same way. Of happiness, that the person he loved was close and loved him just as much. And of a one overpowered by sorrow because he thought he was undeserving.

Yeosang did not have motivational speeches ready, like Wooyoung and surely San had. One of the things he believed in was that everything happened for a reason, and he always knew how to play that in his favour. Another thing he believed in was that breakdowns, no matter how violent, were a form of purifying, along with the numbness that came with it.

So he allowed San to cry, and he gently patted his head, like his sister used to do.

“Let’s head back.” Yeosang suggested, sighing when San shook his head. “Do you want Wooyoung to see you like this? He’s gonna fight both of us if he does.”

After less than a second of San considering, he agreed, but he was met with great difficulty when he had to find a way to stand up. Yeosang held the bag around his wrist, then went to dispose of the beer bottle. He held San’s hand as he pulled himself back up, and held back a laugh when he held his hand properly. He wished he knew more of Jongho. Perhaps there was something, someone that would cheer him up.

San was several stairs ahead. The plastic bag was rustling in his hand, and the dust particles rolling beneath the sole of his shoe with every step he took. Yeosang hid his mouth and nose underneath his jacket, and his fists were balled tightly in his pockets. “We’re worthy.” He blurted, eyes down at the shadow his body casted. San held his steps, his hand leaned against the rail. “You’re worthy. And I’m worthy too.” Yeosang raised his chin to look out the window. “And everything that happened…It happened because it was meant to. I think we spend too much time questioning why we’re loved instead of…I don’t know, appreciating it.” He nodded to himself. “I think that’s our problem. So let’s just stop being dumb.”

San puckered his lips, and turned around when he felt like smiling. “Yeah.” He let out a breathy giggle, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I agree.”

Before opening the door to their apartment, he gave Yeosang one more look. “I’m sorry I cried like that.” To which Yeosang waved his hand left and right to brush the subject aside. 

“Tell me what Wooyoung wants for his birthday and I’ll forgive you.”

Much to his surprise, San did seem to be thinking about it. “I’ll have a look in his room and let you know. He’s always in need of art supplies.”

“…Not to be disloyal or anything, but I think I love you.”

San laughed in the highest pitch Yeosang’s ever heard, and he almost laughed as well, but then Wooyoung opened the door with the speed of an angry mom whose kids made it home late, casted a glare at San, then went back to the kitchen. He had finally made up his mind to make hotteok, and was currently in the process of making the dough. His hair was tied back from getting into his face, and his sleeves were rolled up over his elbows. 

“Water. Now.” Wooyoung said, pointing with his chin towards the water bottle. At least now they knew why he was mad.

“Yes, daddy.”

Wooyoung clicked his tongue, tending to his mixture like he was a pro, as the other two each took a seat at the dining table. “What’s up with both of you calling me daddy…I don’t get it…”

San almost choked on his water, and shot a surprised look in Yeosang’s direction. “You’ve literally been dating for like two seconds, and you’re already calling him daddy.”

“What- I’ve never called you daddy, what’s wrong with you?”

He seemed to really consider it when Wooyoung gave him an insistent glare.

“Oh, you mean…You mean, then…Yeah. Yeah, okay. I remember. In my defence, everyone calls someone they fancy ‘daddy’ or ‘big daddy’ back at the club, so…”

“So what you’re saying is that you fancied me the moment you saw me.”

“No. I looked pretty. And I wanted to show it off. I got this habit from Yunho, actually. He calls Mingi everything from ‘big daddy’ to ‘my steady’ to ‘sweet, sweet, baby cakes.’ I just thought it was really cute.”

“So you think that calling your boyfriend ‘daddy’ is cute. Uh-huh. Tell me more.” San put the water bottle down, and crossed his fingers, and resting his chin over them. “I’m curious.”

“I mean- I don’t know. There’s nothing bad about it. I wouldn’t go around calling anyone this in pubic, but…you know. There’s nothing sexual about it.”

Wooyoung was not part of the conversation, but he was having the time of his life. He was trying to hard not to laugh. Or coo.

“Oh, what a young, pure, soul you are, Yeosangie.”

“Now, now, Sannie, if Yeosangie says ‘daddy’ is not sexual, it means it’s not sexual, okay?”

“…Yes, daddy.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being bullied…again.”

Yeosang stood up from the table, seemingly sad, and went to Wooyoung’s room to charge his phone. And not even two minutes later, he came back saying: “I just googled what daddy means and I hate you both with a passion.”

San laughed while leaning back on his chair and kicking his legs up in the air like a child having a tantrum, with the water bottle clutched into his arms. Yeosang was too mad to be worried about him. If he fell on the floor, it was because he deserved it. Wooyoung, on the other hand, was visibly biting his tongue behind his teeth so he won’t laugh, but in the end he gave in too.

“He’s so cute.”

“I know,” Wooyoung confirmed, with so much love in his voice that it rather made Yeosang cringe, but that soon shifted when he said “He’s my baby.”

At a loss of words, Yeosang pulled his sleeve over his hand and covered his mouth with it, feeling how the warmth of his cheeks transferred through the fabric rather quickly.

“I am disgusted.” San declared, his lips pursed. “All these myths and stories you’ve read, and you still declare your love like you’re illiterate. You still continue to disappoint me.”

“Which part of ‘get off my dick’ do you not understand? I’m so looking forward to the day you’ll get a boyfriend and I have to listen to you quoting from ‘The Symposium’ to him.”

“You don’t have to rub it in my face like that!”

“The only thing I’m about to rub into your face is this flour and God I hope you snort it.”

“You’re just jealous because my understanding of romance is superior.”

“Then-”

“I swear to fuck if you’re about to remind me that I don’t have a boyfriend yet, I’m shoving this bottle up your ass.”

“Dickhead, do you want these pancakes or not?”

“I hope you get choked.”

“And I hope you know I’d love that.”

San spun the bottle cap until it closed up, and stood up from his chair. He gave Yeosang’s shoulder a firm squeeze “You heard him.” Before kissing his head and heading to the bathroom. “I just kissed your boyfriend. I hope you suffer.”

“You’ll be glad to find out I don’t.”

San chugged on the last sips of water, before flattening the plastic with his hands, and tossing it in Wooyoung’s direction, hitting him right on the butt. Wooyoung yelped and gave San a glare from hell, but his hands were unfortunately still busy, so he didn’t do much else than to curse him until San locked himself in the bathroom.

Wooyoung sighed, and hooking his toe against the drawer handle, he pulled it open and, realising that he can’t pick anything up on his own, he gave Yeosang a pleading look. “Pass me the plastic foil?”

Yeosang stood up and took over from there while Wooyoung washed the mixture off his hands. “Sorry you had to witness that.”

“It’s okay. It was fun to watch.”

“Also, ugh, sorry for cursing so much.”

“Why would you apologise for that?”

“I know you don’t like cursing.”

“I chose not to, but it’s okay when others do it.”

Wooyoung took notice of the pink on Yeosang’s cheeks, and leaned in to kiss them. In the exact second, however, Yeosang turned around to say something. Startled at the sudden proximity, they both stepped back, awkwardly returning to wiping the dishes and cleaning the counter. Wooyoung was heartbeats away from dropping the plate in his hand, and by the way he saw Yeosang’s hand shaking, he realised he was not far from it either. “Y-You needed something?”

Wooyoung quietly cleared his throat, wiping his hands before hooking the towel against the oven door handle. “Just wanted to kiss your cheek.”

“Oh.”

There were often times when Yeosang hated how unpredictable he could be. Even to himself. Sometimes the surprise was worth it, but in situations like the one at present could end up giving people mixed signals. He was more tired of it than Wooyoung was. And now he was exasperated, because he was so close to getting his first kiss, the one he’s been looking forward to experiencing.

Although his mouth ran dry, he still swallowed down every emotion he didn’t need, and with a leap of courage, he went to kiss Wooyoung’s cheek, and give him a well deserved hug after. “You too.” He pressed his eyes, nervousness gathering up around his neck and at the tips of his fingers.

“Hm?”

With his cheek now over Wooyoung’s left shoulder, and faint vibrations of his heartbeats ringing in his ear, he closed his eyes to appear relaxed. “You’re my baby too.”

Although no one would ever know how much courage he had built up until now to say those words, he was also prepared to be teased. He held still, and the scent of Wooyoung’s cologne wafted around him. For a moment, it smelled better than any home.

When Wooyoung did not seem to show any signs of wanting to tease him, Yeosang started to worry. But then he found their fingers locked together, and Wooyoung guiding him back to his room. Yeosang felt his hands as if they were above fire, and his tongue seemed to have tied in itself.

He prayed Wooyoung would read his countenance and keep quiet until he loaded his courage once more.

Yeosang once claimed to have never lied in his life, and he was probably the only one to believe it. Now, if he kept quiet then, it would not have been a lie, but being evasive of the truth was not an option either. Not then. In his mind, he was in another place, in another day and age, and he was drunk. He was put in a position where his tongue would run faster than any nerve. So he took advantage of it.

“I love you.” He said, and if that didn’t shock Wooyoung enough, Yeosang leaned over him, and landed their lips together before he’d register to get nervous. He felt Wooyoung holding in his breath, and just when he was ready to pull away and open his eyes, a pair of arms came to wrap around his neck,  and without any trace of emotion, he kissed Yeosang back, with his mouth slightly parted. His lips were more experienced, but they did not seem to ask for anything Yeosang wasn’t willing to offer yet. “You didn’t have to say it back.”

Yeosang shook his head, and he had no idea when Wooyoung’s hands lowered to rest on his hips. Although that was just how he wanted himself to be. So lost and in love and plainly stupid. To feel so much so fear would never seep through him again. Wooyoung’s hands there may not have felt comfortable, but they felt right.

“I did, I just found it hard to. I was dumb. I didn’t think it would end up hurting you.”

“Why did you think it would hurt me?”

“If I told someone I loved them and they didn’t say it back…it would hurt.”

Wooyoung lifted a hand to cup Yeosang’s cheek, walking his thumb over the lips he wanted to kiss for so long. Even after he did, it did not feel real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing non-toxic relationships is therapeutic. That's it.


	6. Out Of Love And In Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He held Yeosang in his arms and kissed him as if he was a gift, like he was the product of a syzygy who had fallen on Earth and right into his arms. “My twin flame,”

Yeosang was off with Seonghwa who knows where to practice for his fire performance. They left early in the morning and returned at night, so he and Wooyoung had not seen each other for three days. The first day was (with the risk of sounding cruel) a blessing for Wooyoung, because he could finally finish his drawings. He had already submitted one, which his lecturers were happy with, but the life of a student never came with time to breathe. The second day, he started checking his phone every five minutes for messages or any sign of life, but halfway through the day, he told San to keep his phone until he finished his work. The third day, San thought he was having a nightmare. He heard Wooyoung sending Yeosang a voice message in which he whined: “I miiiiss yoooou, loveeer”. It is worth mentioning that he was listening to Taylor Swift’s ‘Lover’ too. It made San want to hurl Wooyoung at the nearest wall. But then he remembered that he and Yeosang became besties.

San shipped them like he shipped the greek gays, but he cringed and groaned when he saw them acting like generic boyfriends. “There are more ways to express love than there are people, you uneducated pig! Tell him about how his arms feel around you: haven and harbour! How the moon strikes to be as blinding as the sun when he smiles! How your life was drought and plague until he said the first ‘I love you’! You have so many things! But no! You chose to be a peasant, and sicken me with your filthy ‘I miss you’. We are artists, Wooyoung! Who says ‘I miss you’, when you have an entire language to express heartache!”

“I’m not as good as you are with classic romance! Can you get off my dick and let me text my lover?”

“I know for a fact that he’s not texting you back.”

“Well no, because he’s practicing…Plus it makes him happy to see lots of messages from me when he checks his phone.”

At the end of the third day, Wooyoung tossed himself in his bed, fresh out of the shower. He did not have the strength to check his phone, let alone open his eyes back to look for it. That day had been the most productive Wooyoung’s ever had since he started University. He went there one hour early, got work done, went to classes, ate his lunch on the way, then attended his workshops. Once he was out of Uni and on his way to the station, he messaged Hongjoong asking if they’re busy and if they want to give him a hand. Hongjoong’s response was: “I’m literally putting my shoes on now.” Then he called Yunho to ask him if he could “Arrange our schedules so that Yeosang and I don’t work on the same day at least once? I’m almost finished with the costume, and I’m going to need a full day of him not stressing me out.” To which Yunho said “Are you insane, I was…doing that right now. As we speak. You have Wednesday. Yeosang has Thursday.” Then they spent about a minute talking about how in a past life they were one soul who got separated in this one. After that, Wooyoung said “Also, I was wondering if I could go to the club now? I’d like to work on my stuff.” At first Yunho said no, but then Wooyoung confessed that he asked Hongjoong before he asked him.

In the end it all worked out in his favour, and he did not stop being grateful for Hongjoong’s existence until they finished their work. For the duration of the day, Wooyoung’s desk was filled with makeup planning sheets, until he got mad and pulled out his drawing tablet from his bag and started drawing Yeosang’s portrait as if it was nothing. Next to him, Hongjoong was working on a headwear, but when they caught a glimpse of what Wooyoung was up to, they stopped and stared.

Wooyoung turned around in his chair to face the costume, and drew Yeosang sitting in his aerial hoop, with one leg down, and the other one hooked against the lyra. “You’re making it look like it’s nothing.” Hongjoong said, and Wooyoung smiled. He was too focused to register any other voice than the one telling him what to draw. Back in the first semester he finished his modern impressionist oil painting in record time, and he was too proud to feel tired. From there he started taking indications from Hongjoong on what would look best for his face makeup, and they both agreed on extending the impression of an ashen, burnt aspect to the side of the neck, and keep the eye makeup as simple as possible. “I know I have no right to give you more work to do, but you should really turn this into a real painting.”

Wooyoung smiled to himself.

Little did Hongjoong know.

The two had an emotional moment when they finally put the costume all together, with accessories and headwear. Hongjoong hugged him tightly and let him know they were proud, and made it a lot more dramatic when they thanked Wooyoung for letting them join him on this journey. Which left Wooyoung confused because he would have never known how to stick a strand of thread through a needle hole if it wasn’t for them. They took pictures of every individual piece and sent it to Mingi and Yunho, and for whatever reason they became emotional too. “Our Wooyoungie came so far in such a short time! Dearest, what a gemstone you are!” He said, and Wooyoung had to hide to Hongjoong’s chest out of embarrassment.

It was little over 1AM when Hongjoong drove Wooyoung home, and when it was time to part ways, they looked at each other like they reached the end of their last journey together. As if Hongjoong could read his mind, they said: “This was only our first one. Don’t be so sad. You did well. We both did. I just helped you like you helped me with mine.” Wooyoung was grateful, although Hongjoong’s costumes and other pieces of clothing were God tier. On that occasion, Wooyoung found out Hongjoong had a popular Instagram page dedicated to their creations. When he opened the car door to leave, he hesitated, and went back to pull Hongjoong into one last hug and a kiss on the forehead.

When he arrived home, he got a message from Seonghwa in which he praised him for his hard work too, and after that he sent him a short video of Yeosang practising. He was on his knees, leaned back, his head almost against the floor, with a fire staff in his hand, slowly spinning it. 

He gathered up his energy to look for his phone, and once he did, he dropped the device on his chest and fell asleep. With the lights on, his hair wet, and uncovered. He fell into such a deep sleep that he did not dream of anything, and he did not exclude the possibility of having fallen into a coma while he was at it too. He barely startled awake when the phone began vibrating against his chest, and he wanted to put it away and fall back asleep, but with his eyes cracked open, he caught a glimpse of the name. He lifted himself up and rubbed the sleepiness away from his eyes, but by the time he did, the phone stopped ringing. Putting his phone aside for the moment, he went to dry his hair quickly, and when he returned, he called Yeosang back. “Hey, cutie.”

His heart melted and he kicked his legs up in the air when he heard Yeosang’s sleepy giggle. “Hey.”

“You home?”

Yeosang hummed. “…Wanted to hear you.”

“…I’m here, baby.”

“I know.”

Wooyoung rolled to his side and closed his eyes. He imagined Yeosang laying down, with half his face sunk into the pillow and buried in his quilt up to his neck, with one headphone on. He heard sounds of shuffling coming from the other side. “You sound tired.”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung opened his eyes back at the weak, broken way Yeosang’s voice sounded. “Yeah, I am.”

“You okay? Are you crying?”

“No. Just really tired. And stressed.”

“Did you sleep well lately?”

A pause.

“Not really.”

“Why?”

A soft sigh. More shuffling sounds.

“Nervous.”

Wooyoung checked the time and stood up.

“And I miss you.” Yeosang mumbled. He sounded like he covered his mouth with his blanket.

A longer pause followed. One in which Yeosang’s soft breaths seemed to become more even, like he had already fallen asleep, but in the end he said: “Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Little did Yeosang know that Wooyoung was already packing his stuff and putting his clothes on. He put his phone on speaker and threw his art supplies in his bag. “Yeah, sure.”

San was in his room watching and analysing plays, and Wooyoung quickly shoved a paper underneath his door, reading: ‘Be back tomorrow, love you.’

“Tell me how your day went. How was practice?”

Yeosang groaned like a child who wanted to sleep for five more minutes, and although it kind of broke Wooyoung’s heart, he was doing it for a good reason. He was currently putting his shoes on.

“Was okay. I did good.” He inhaled and exhaled deeply. “What you up to?”

“Oh, I’m about to…go pick San up.”

“He drank?”

“I think so. We’re gonna go buy some stuff.”

Yeosang mumbled a long sentence in half-sleep, and Wooyoung’s sharp laugh startled him and almost made him curse. “What was that?”

“I said…You always…do things late.”

“I mean yeah, I do procrastinate.”

“Nuh…You do things late. At night. When there’s no sun.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

Wooyoung was on his way, his eyes currently on the red traffic light. Once it turned green, he quickened his pace.

“You should. Time. Use it. Use your time.”

With each word, Yeosang sounded sleepier. Wooyoung thought about how this could also be when Yeosang was drunk. If he was capable of getting drunk.

Wooyoung had no right to deny Yeosang his sleep, but he liked to believe that he was being loud and talkative for a good reason. He went back to conversations they’ve had before and tried to remember what was Yeosang most excited to hear about. What would, on a conversational level, be the equivalent of fried chicken?

“Are you still there?” It took him a second, but Yeosang made a sound similar to a puppy’s whine to let him know that he was still awake. “So I read this thing about Hawaiian gods, right, and it gave me a bit of a headache. But not in a bad way. So here you have this term called ‘kupua’ which is a group supernatural entities. Less than gods, but more than human. But not demigods or monsters either. So if you wanted to talk about people with powers, you would use ‘kupua’. Unless they have elemental powers. Then they’re called ‘akua’. And now I’m reading about those ‘akua’.” Yeosang hummed. “Were you listening?”

“…Was. Yeah. ‘M listening.” Not a moment later, Wooyoung caught the sound of a faint meow in the distance, and he never thought he could love a cat more. “Ari, no…Ari…No…I said no.”

“What’s she doing?”

Yeosang sighed, and next Wooyoung assumed that he stood up to go grab the cat. “I burned some incense sticks, and she wants to sleep in my room, but she’s allergic to those. —Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, what was that?”

“She sneezed. Bless you, child.”

“Now I know you sneeze like your cat.”

“Listen, I —Wait.”

“Okay.”

“…So I’m back in my room now, but she’s meowing at the door.” He heaved out the tiredest sigh so far. “Guess I’ll sleep in the living room tonight. I think she’s scared of something. She does this thing where she’ll stare into space for seconds on end, then stand as if she’s threatened, and then she’ll come to me and meow until I go check.”

“I thought I was gonna laugh, but that’s so…heartwarming.”

“Yeah.” Yeosang sighed. Wooyoung was unsure of what the following shuffling sounds meant, but then he heard the softest meow followed by Yeosang cooing, and then Ari purring. “Ari, I love you so much, but I’m about to pass out, so please sleep.”

“You really stay awake until she falls asleep?”

“What kind of parent just sleeps while their kid is restless?”

Wooyoung’s only heard of ‘cat mom’ or ‘cat dad’ from other people, but he’s never met one personally, and by the way people described this type of people, he came to the conclusion that he wanted to avoid them. Yeosang was part of this category of people, but (un?)surprisingly, he was not annoying. Yet.

The only reason he did not tell Yeosang he was a dog person was because he did not want to break up with him. And he hoped this question would never come.

Yeosang tossed his head on the pillow, with the closest sound to a moan Wooyoung’s ever heard from him. “Ari, what- Oh, no…”

“What?”

“I don’t deserve her. She’s dragging her bed towards the couch. Woo, I wish you were here to see her, she’s so cute.”

Coincidentally, much to Wooyoung’s excitement as well as nervousness, he was on Yeosang’s street.

“Oh, wow, what’s that?” Wooyoung asked, a bit overly dramatic. “There’s a thing in the sky. Have you seen it? Like right next to the moon.”

“Tell me what it looks like.”

“I don’t know how to describe it. Can you look out the window?” 

“Are you seriously making me get up again?”

“Do it for me. Please. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

Yeosang sobbed. For once, Wooyoung considered himself lucky that his boyfriend was on a cursing ban.

If he hadn’t slept earlier, in all of his exhaustion, he would have cried at how beautiful Yeosang looked in that light. His fluffy hair, his skin, bright and soft like candlelight. “D’you see it?”

“No, there’s nothing there. When was the last time you cleaned your glasses?”

Wooyoung suddenly missed the purely tired Yeosang who would barely tie two words together. But then, he saw him smiling, and he had to fight the urge to scream his name. “Now look down.”

“Hm?” Wooyoung waved at him, with a grin on his face at the way Yeosang looked at him. “…You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“I am.”

Yeosang lifted his hand to his mouth, and for a moment, the way he looked at Wooyoung seemed to be the embodiment of the way love was portrayed in classic romance. “My baby,” When a lover was nature, calamity, and godship. And when love as depicted in poetry was as rare as divine intervention. 

“Yeah, baby, I came to see you.”

Yeosang looked over his shoulder, then back at him. “D-Do I come down? Or…You’re here to stay?”

“…When am I not here to stay?”

Taking a deep breath, Yeosang hang up and ran away from the window to open the front door for him.

The seconds in which Wooyoung walked up the stairs were excruciating for Yeosang, as he finally understood the magic of being exhausted, and with that, brave and careless, where every pitiful word sounded poetic. When Wooyoung stood before him, smiling and with his cheeks red with cold, Yeosang pulled him into his arms and kissed the longing out of him. He took his beanie off and carded his fingers through his hair, and even by touch alone, he could smell the honey in it. He kissed him with force, and until his chapped, cold lips became soft and warmer than his. When he pulled away, he held his palms cupped against his cheeks and caressed the cold away. “You came to see me.” He murmured, with so much denial in his voice that Wooyoung found it funny. “This late.” Wooyoung nodded. “Why?”

And he finally removed himself completely from him, helping him out of his jacket.

“What do you mean why?”

“I just- I didn’t think you would. It’s so…So nice of you.”

“Do I ever miss a chance to see you?” Yeosang shrugged his shoulders, and Wooyoung flicked his forehead. “No, dummy. I never do.”

Yeosang opened his mouth to answer, but from behind him came a loud and confused meow. He scurried to pick his cat up, kissing her cheek as he walked back. “Did I wake you up? Hm?” He attempted to kiss her again, but she tilted her head back and placed her paw on his lips. He gave her an unpleasant look and settled for scratching her under her chin until she started purring. “This is my little angel. Her name is Ariadne, and she’s actually a dog in disguise. She can be really loud when she’s happy. —Isn’t that right? It’s because you’re deaf and you don’t know how loud you actually are.”

Calling the cat a little angel was not far from the truth. Her eyes were big and of an intense blue, like the contacts Yeosang wore during his Waning Moonstone performance. Ariadne’s coat was white, sleek, and fluffy, and her ears were big and pointier than any other cat Wooyoung’s ever seen, and there was a little tuft of fur at the tips.

“Hi, princess,” Wooyoung cooed, giving the cat his hand to sniff. She did not seem to be against being pat. “She’s stunning. I can’t stop looking at her.”

“I know. She’s really pretty.”

Yeosang went in to show him around the house, setting Ariadne down in her little pink bed when they walked into the living room. She sat down with her long tail wrapped around her feet, her eyes insistently on Wooyoung.

The living room was fairly large, with two small, ash gray couches opposite to each other on the same wall as the window, a glass coffee table in between them, and a fluffy, round, black carpet underneath them. Grey, hardwood flooring, and a silver, shimmery wallpaper with geometric metallic shapes on only two walls. On one of them there were asymmetric white shelves decorated with books that were part of the same collection, golden picture frames and fake plants. On the floor there were cat toys scattered all over, which Yeosang apologised for. Other than some clothes and makeup thrown here and there, the room was a lot tidier than Wooyoung expected. In the middle of the living room however, at a safe distance from the furniture pieces, was a dancing pole. Wooyoung did not know why he was surprised, although his breath caught in his throat like he was. He ran his middle finger down the metal, eyeing it from ceiling to floor, and shot an arched eyebrow in Yeosang’s direction. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s for practice.” He said in his defence.

“I would love to see you practice.”

Yeosang leaned his hands against Wooyoung’s chest, gently pushing him against the pole, and kissed the corner of his lips. “We’ll see how you behave tomorrow.”

Wooyoung held Yeosang’s hips, pressing the pads of his fingers against his bones. “Someone’s bold today.”

Guiding Wooyoung’s hands to his lower back, Yeosang kissed him again, linking his arms at the nape of his partner’s neck. 

Until Wooyoung felt something soft rubbing against his shin, and he had to pull away. “I’m sorry, kitty. I’m not gonna steal him from you, I promise.”

Yeosang scratched the nape of his neck awkwardly and picked Ariadne up in his arms, with her head over his shoulder. “Should I…Show you my room?”

Wooyoung nodded, trying to stay calm and professional.

As soon as Yeosang opened the door, the smell of vanilla and honey hit Wooyoung in the face more violently than a snowball. The first thing Wooyoung laid his eyes on was the pale coraille wall and the framed Moulin Rouge poster. Around it there were vintage French newspaper articles about Vaudeville and cabaret performances, also framed. The bedding was wine red with black, minimalist flowers, and a scarlet faux fur cushion at the head of the bed. But what impressed Wooyoung the most was how similar the vanity was to the one at the club. How organised his makeup was in those little shelves, and what a mess the table was. Right by the mirror was a row of colognes and body mists from brands whose names Wooyoung could not pronounce. There was a lot happening on that table, in fact. There was everything from jewellery to discount coupons to two empty cereal bowls stacked over each other. On the wall behind it there were more framed pictures of performers like Làszlò Major or Zelia Rose, and a distinctively large one of Dita von Teese. A pair of boots were just chilling on the red padded chair, and more fancy footwear right under the vanity table, although there was a wardrobe right next to it. But from the door of the wardrobe hung sheer shirts, a red silk tie which Wooyoung had a lot of questions about, and a pair of jeans. 

“It’s very…you.”

“I would hope so.”

“I mean, I expected a lot from your room, but this. This is great, I love it. Kinda miss having my own place and decorating stuff.”

“One day you will.” He rubbed Wooyoung’s back, and when he started using his nails, he could not help but make a lewd sound. The shiver went right across his spine. “I take it you like this.”

“I had a full day. My back’s killing me.”

“…Can I help?”

“And do what?”

“Massage your back. I have pretty strong knuckles.”

“No, you need to sleep. You look exhausted…And fucking beautiful, but still exhausted.”

“But you just said you had a full day.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, but even after that, you came all the way here. If you can stay awake for me, I can stay awake for you too.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes and, against his will, he decided to play along. That was his best attempt, although failed, to say no to Yeosang. He brought his bag to his bedroom and, without warning, he unbuckled his belt and was ready to pull his jeans down, when he gave Yeosang a questioning look. “Do you mind?”

“I mean. No.—Wait, ‘Do you mind’ like ‘Please turn around or ‘Do you mind like ‘Does it bother you?”

“Both?”

“…It doesn’t bother me, but I can turn around if you want.”

“Honey, I know you don’t want to turn around from this.”

Ashamed to admit, Yeosang grabbed his cushion, and from the way he held it, Wooyoung knew he wanted to toss it as him, but he settled for burying his face into it. “I hate you.”

Wooyoung chuckled, poking the tip of his tongue out while he was at it. When he turned around to pick his shirt up, Ariadne was sitting in the doorway, watching him like she knew he was up to no good. Even so, the look in her eyes was not violent, and she never tipped her head back when Wooyoung wanted to pet her, nor threatened to bite. He sat down on the floor and gently scratched Ari between her ears and little down her back, then he held out his hand. “Can you give me paw?” He asked, gasping in near shock when Ari placed her pink paw in his palm. “Oh my God, she actually gave me paw. I don’t understand, why is she so friendly?”

“You want her to bite you?”

“No, but like…cats don’t usually like me.” He pretended to shake hands with the cat, then set her paw down gently, and when he lifted his hand, Ari put her paw back. Wooyoung placed his other hand under her fore leg and picked her up as if he held a baby. “You’re so well behaved, I’m almost scared to touch you.” But she did toss her head back when Wooyoung wanted to kiss her. As he tried to set her back down, Ari sneezed again. “Okay, out you go.”

He put her down on the other side of the door and slowly closed it. They spent the next ten seconds with their fingers crossed, and exhaled assured when they didn’t hear a meow.

Wooyoung threw himself on the bed, making a pleased sound at the warmth and softness of the bedding, and the scent wafting around the room. “I’m ready to be pampered.”

“Do you want any oils? Ointments?”

“Why would you even have that?”

“If there’s one thing I’ll never get tired of obsessing over, it’s self care. I have eight body oils and three -no, five, body butters. For you, I’m thinking…almond oil.”

“What an exquisite choice.”

Yeosang fetched the bottle and tossed it on the bed, as he cracked his knuckles and did stretching exercises for his fingers. But then, as he went back to Wooyoung, a slight wave of horror washed over his face. He kneeled next to him, and he considered, calculated, planned, until he overworked his brain.

“You wanna sit on me and you don’t know how to ask me.” Wooyoung said.

Whenever Wooyoung did something that even remotely annoyed Yeosang, he started considering if his relationship was worth all the hassle. But it was moments like these, when Yeosang would think so loud that his thoughts would transmit all the way to Wooyoung’s brain, and he did not have to speak, or look at him, to know. And Yeosang was too invested in all of this to have the patience and life force to educate someone else in the arts of telepathy when Wooyoung was a natural.

“May I?”

“Yes, baby. Straddle me. Ride me. Sit on me. You name it.”

“I’m uncomfortable.”

“This seat is a lot comfier.” He said, wiggling his butt. “You should try it.”

And he did. Once he got comfortable, he felt the adrenaline coursing through him like a sugar rush, and he didn’t think too much about the position he was in. He was, indeed, more comfortable, Wooyoung was not complaining, and the almond oil in his palms smelled warm and sweet.

He glided his hands up and down Wooyoung’s back, warming the skin up and rubbing the oil in. All that while looking out the window. Wooyoung’s body seemed to have a voice of its own, like a whisper, demanding attention, and it did not seem to cease its call until Yeosang gave in and looked down. From there he started applying more pressure with the heel of his palm and his knuckles, and with each rub in the right spot, Wooyoung moaned. It was a sound that Yeosang found very pleasing, and he did not know what to do with that information. He stopped when Wooyoung would roll his shoulders, and he’d find his tongue pressing to the walls of his mouth when he would massage those muscles.

“…Is it okay to compliment the sounds someone makes? Is that weird?”

“Depends on the context.”

“And is this context okay?”

“…I guess.” Wooyoung said with a smug smile on his face. “Just say you want to hear me moan and go.”

Yeosang pressed the pads of his thumbs right into Wooyoung’s deltoids, and rolled them in circles, then he switched to the palm of his hand, pressing and dragging it, allowing himself to be guided by Wooyoung’s pleased sounds. He was glad no one could see how flushed his cheeks were. He moved onto Wooyoung’s spine, pushing his knuckles down the vertebrae, applying enough pressure for Wooyoung not to scream in pain. Yeosang paid attention to how he was performing, not wanting to hurt him or miss any areas that needed more attention, but his eyes, however, wandered. Wooyoung’s muscle lines, the moles on his back, his waistline, his golden skin, like a tiger’s fur. There was a lot happening, a lot that Yeosang wanted to touch and kiss more gently, but just like every single time when he wanted something, he denied it to himself and continued to focus on relieving the stress from Wooyoung’s muscles.

Once there were enough red spots on his back, he wiped the remaining oil off his back, andtapped Wooyoung’s shoulder to signal him he was done, but when all he did was to turn his head around to meet his eyes, with no intention to move, Yeosang swallowed his doubt and went to rest his cheek on Wooyoung’s rhomboid, and his hand a little lower.

“You comfy there?”

Yeosang nodded. Under him, Wooyoung pulled the pillow under his head and let his eyes fall closed. “Can I do this? Is your back okay?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather we cuddled.” Wooyoung sought. Yeosang’s sleepiness was contagious. “I want to hold you.”

Yeosang appeared next to Wooyoung as if summoned, shy and expectant. He covered both their bodies, then, much like Ariadne did when she wanted attention, he tried to shimmy his way into Wooyoung’s arms, when he teasingly refused to open them. When Wooyoung could not take it anymore, he enveloped Yeosang tightly with his every limb, and kissed his forehead so hard, that within the duration of it, his lips went white. Then he tucked his head to his chest, aware of how uncomfortable he must have felt down there, but he was never going to admit that he was taking advantage of this pliant Yeosang was when tired. His eyes were closed and he seemed to accept whatever Wooyoung had to offer. When he was done toying around, he allowed Yeosang to find his best comfortable position, which was, like no other time, lying as close as possible to Wooyoung, almost nose to nose. Being in a playful mood, he rubbed the tip of his nose against Yeosang’s in attempt to tickle him. But when he found an opening, Yeosang tilted his head and kissed him in a way only he could. There was no form of discomfort or shame, no need to deepen it or to tilt his head further. Wooyoung’s lips were so sweet and moist with lip balm, that Yeosang could have fallen asleep kissing them. With his fingertips barely on Wooyoung’s cheeks, Yeosang bit his lip timidly, pulling back right after, as if startled by his own boldness. Wooyoung took Yeosang’s hand and leaned it on his own cheek, closing his eyes.

They kissed lazily and as deeply as their sleep and the fever in their cheeks allowed. Their tongues brushed like two hands searching for each other underwater. They kissed until they shared the same sweetness, and until the heat of their bodies was enough to keep them warm. Wooyoung thought he was dreaming when he felt Yeosang’s knee brushing against his, then sliding his leg in between Wooyoung’s thighs. As if he knew he was going to protest, Yeosang wrapped a possessive hand at the nape of Wooyoung’s neck and fully seized his tongue and lips. Wooyoung stood by, waiting for his next move. He did not have much consciousness to hold onto, so when Yeosang’s thigh rubbed against his crotch once, Wooyoung grabbed his arms and pulled them apart. “What are you doing?”

Drowsy and drunk on sleeplessness, Yeosang took Wooyoung’s wrist and clutched it to his chest like it was a plush toy. “…I want you.”

Wooyoung stared and caressed his hair, and his heart was beating with excitement and anticipation to receive more. “You have me.”

Yeosang, off into his second stage of sleep, shook his head. “Not like that.”

Baffled by the sudden boldness, Wooyoung waited for him to open his eyes back and apologise, or get shy about it, but none of that happened. Yeosang held his hand tighter. His forehead and cheeks were burning up. The birthmark on his eyelid and temple looked like petals that had just settled on his face.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, baby.”

“No.” Yeosang opposed, his eyes and mind blurry. “No, ‘cause tomorrow I won’t have…I won’t have it in me to talk. Please.” 

“Baby, I- I can’t. Not now. I’m sorry. But I swear you have me. I’m all yours.” He said, tenderly, brushing his thumb back and forth against the short hairs at the nape of Yeosang’s neck. Yeosang’s eyelids twitched to stay raised, although they fell heavy with each of Wooyoung’s caresses.

A million questions soared in his weary mind. Questions that he turned into dreams so they would not go to waste, because with every new morning, they would be left unanswered and rotten.

When Wooyoung woke up, Yeosang was still sound asleep at a safe distance from him. His fingers were poking out from under the quilt. Wooyoung had no power in him to resist, so he leaned over and kissed them. Yeosang wiggled them gently, still asleep. Wooyoung stared at the ceiling, then checked his phone, then went to check the view out the window. In the end, he went to take a shower. For some reason unknown to him, Ariadne was sleeping on the rug in front of the bathroom door, leaning her head on the slippers. When Wooyoung took his first step, Ariadne lifted her head, her ears twitching. She stretched and made her way to Wooyoung, rubbing her head and tail against his leg. She walked into the bathroom together with Wooyoung and instantly jumped onto the laundry basket. Wooyoung scratched her chin and between her ears until she started purring softly. “You sure you don’t wanna head back? He’s’ gonna look for you when he wakes up.” Wooyoung whispered. Ariadne was feeling too nice and pampered to care. “You gonna stare at me while I shower? Wow, you’re nothing like your owner.”

And she did. Eventually she made herself comfortable by leaning her front paws one over the other. Her blue eyes made him feel uncomfortable to some extent. No cat was ever that interested in him. Maybe she watched him so carefully because she wanted to see if he was right for Yeosang. If another human treated her as nicely as Yeosang did, when she’d offer her approval to stay in her house. The studio never belonged to Yeosang. It belonged to Ari.

When Wooyoung was done showering, Ariadne started bathing herself too, graciously licking at her front paws with her head slightly tilted back and her eyes closed, the white light falling onto the silver on her collar. When Wooyoung turned around to face the sink and brush his teeth, Ariadne jumped onto the toilet seat, waving her tail gently. Her wide eyes made Wooyoung laugh. She stretched herself to the sink, leaning her paws onto the porcelain rim. Wooyoung found it impossible to ignore her. He brushed his teeth while having a staring contest with the most beautiful cat he’s ever seen. When he finished washing up and making his hair behave, he picked Ariadne up like a baby and walked back to the bedroom, where Yeosang was still sleeping. She jumped out of Wooyoung’s arms and went to sniff at Yeosang’s hands, until he shoved them under his blanket and turned around with a tired groan. Ari leaned over his shoulder and first pressed her nose to his cheek, then her paw, and eventually she started kneading at Yeosang’s face until he woke up. When he cracked his eyes open, Ari threw herself over Yeosang’s face, making him cough for air. Wooyoung was having a great time.

“Morning.”

Yeosang wrapped his arm around Ari, making her unable to move, but she did that thing where cats become liquid and squeezed out, only to squeeze back in. She found the strings from Yeosang’s shirt and started tugging and chewing on them, but then she got distracted by Yeosang’s feet moving underneath the quilt. She leaned low and steady, her ears perked up, jumping instantly when Yeosang moved his toe. He was a millisecond too late from dragging his foot away, before Ari wrapped her paws around it and bit him. Yeosang yelped and drew his feet away before picking her up with one hand and bringing her back on his chest. He did not know why he did that either, it was not like she was going to sit still. Yeosang placed his palm before her face, and Ari raised her paw, gave him a high five, then jumped off the bed.

Only then he turned around to Wooyoung. “Morning indeed.”

Wooyoung lied back down facing him. “Can I hold your hand or is she going to kill me?” But Yeosang wordlessly laced fingers with him anyway. They did not let the rustling noise bother them, of the rattling of plastic toys coming from the living room. Wooyoung took Yeosang’s hand in his and kissed the back of it, then one more on his wrist.

He saw it. The way Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa. The comparison Yunho made. Wooyoung finally understood. The way Yeosang looked at him as his lips rested on the back of his hand. Wooyoung was the kind to give more, to read the need in the other person’s eyes and immediately offer. Neck and shoulder kisses, touches on the waist and below. There was nothing in Yeosang’s eyes that indicated that kind of need. At the same time, he was horrible at giving signals. He was too deep within the maze that was his mind for him to give clear messages. So what other option did Wooyoung have than to try to find his way in? He let go of Yeosang’s hand and touched his cheek instead, carding his fingers through his hair, then down to his neck.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Yeosang said. Announced. Sharp and clear. And sprinted out of the bed. As soon as the bathroom door closed, Ariadne jumped on the bed, with a feathered toy in her mouth.

Wooyoung did not have time to register what just happened, but the cat was there to make sure he was not going to start overthinking. He lost a life, and he was going to use his next one to approach Yeosang correctly. He was the final boss, after all.

Ariadne minded her own business, biting at the toy with an anger to part the sea in two. But then she kicked it off the bed and gave Wooyoung all of her attention. He played with her ears and scratched around her neck, until she practically fell in his arms on her belly and encouraged him to scratch there as well, but not for more than three seconds. Otherwise she’d bite. Wooyoung learned that lesson the hard way.

By the time Yeosang left the shower, Wooyoung had three scratch marks and a heart filled with love for the feline. He crossed the living room and made his way to the kitchen without sparing Wooyoung a glance. He liked to believe that the blush on Yeosang’s cheeks was from the shower. Wooyoung followed him to the kitchen with Ari in his arms, but she immediately jumped off at the sight of the tuna can. She clung onto Yeosang’s trousers, with her tail wagging, and her pink tongue hanging from her mouth like a dog. Yeosang gave her a hopeless smile and headed outside where her food tray was. Coming back into the kitchen, he proceeded to do the dishes, and if Wooyoung didn’t know him better, he’d think he was embarrassed or upset. Wooyoung had a few guesses, but he did not know how to break the ice, and he was a hundred percent sure Yeosang was not going to do it either. He stood up from his seat and walked up to Yeosang to give him his morning kiss, but as he leaned in, the other pulled away, with a slightly scared look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Yeosang tilted his head in the other direction from Wooyoung and softly cleared his throat. The heat in his cheeks was enough to melt an ice cube in seconds. “Forget what I said yesterday.”

For the thousandth time, Wooyoung’s guesses were right, but it pained him to see Yeosang hurting because of himself. Because he finally expressed himself.

Wooyoung tried to touch him again, but seeing how defensive Yeosang was, he gave up and went back to his seat. He scrolled through his phone, replied to every single of the fifteen messages he received from San over the past six hours, and read the club group chat. Then he came across the pictures of Yeosang’s costume, and the crying and hearts emojis Hongjoong sent as a response to it.

Wooyoung smiled wistfully, peeking at the love of his live with the corner of his eyes. “I love everything about you.” He shared, staring at the wall before him, at the faded shadows the birds flying outside casted. “Literally everything.” He already knew Yeosang ceased whatever he was doing just to listen to Wooyoung. “But I wish you opened yourself up a bit more. Just a bit more.”

Yeosang exhaled sharply, not in the form of a sigh, but as a quick substitute for something he wanted to say, but cowered out last second. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not saying this to force you…I’m saying this because I want to understand you. I want to know you. And like, if there’s a reason, I want to know that too.”

“I am opening myself up to you, but not at your pace. Why can’t you appreciate me trying?” 

“Because you’re taking it out on me, that’s why.”

“And what do you want from me?”

“You to tell me your limits. Tell me what bothers you. Tell me about the things you don’t want to hear about, so I won’t ask you. It’s okay if you get defensive, but you resort to hurtful things when you do.”

Yeosang’s eyelids raised high, and he seemed to gather more within himself. Without having moved, Wooyoung seemed to tower over him.

Whatever followed was going to escalate into a fight. Something both of them wanted to avoid. Wooyoung looked towards the door, thinking to leave the subject hanging for the moment, but if he did, it would mean parting ways with Yeosang, even if it was just for a couple of hours, on bad terms. Their relationship had not yet fully bloomed for them to be able to do that. He knew that if he did walk away, Yeosang would start spiralling into such a dark place, that no embrace or kiss would be able to pull him back from it. He was currently looking at the floor, both his fists grabbing the edge of the counter like he wanted to tear the wood apart. Once again, Wooyoung had more than five options, and he did not know which one to go for in order for him to be okay.

Last night while he made his way to Yeosang’s place, a thought floated in his head. So sudden, that it seemed foreign. It was about when he was halfway that he thought about why he was going to his place. Yes, to see him because he missed him, but he had not yet figured the underlying reason. He went back to the conversation he had with San, and how emotional he had gotten when he talked about Yeosang not being loved. Then Wooyoung realised that might be exactly it. He wanted to shield him from hardships, from his own insecurities and sometimes, from his own mind. He knew Yeosang had spent enough looking like he did then. With his jaw clenched tight to keep his teeth from chattering when he could smile and laugh instead. 

“Go on a date with me.” Wooyoung smiled, his chin rested in his palm, and winking when Yeosang looked at him. For a moment, he thought Wooyoung was mocking him. “Let’s go have breakfast somewhere nice. Go for a walk. Then I’ll drop you off where you meet with Seonghwa hyung.” Wooyoung smiled like he did when he saw Yeosang looking at the moon the night before.

He smiled like he knew he radiated so much hope, enough to quell every unwanted thought in Yeosang’s mind. And although his eyes did not want to cooperate and still threatened to spill tears, his lips did not. With a shy nod and a trembling voice, he mumbled: “Okay.”

*

Wooyoung dipped his paintbrush in water, and on a second thought, he left it there and stood up to stretch his neck and back. He took his glasses off to rub his eyes, then he walked around the room to check what his colleagues were doing. There was always an unspoken competition going on between them, about who hates their lives more and who regretted taking this degree when they could have retreated to the countryside. Wooyoung could relate, but not all the time. There were subjects which he wasn’t as good at, but overall, there haven’t been many occasions where his teachers roasted his works. Except that one time in his first year when his teacher took a look at his, and handed it back without saying anything. Which was worse.

The workshop had three large windows, and each had a wide sill, enough for students to lie down on it and nap, which was exactly what it was used for. He lied down on one, with his hands linked at the nape of his neck, and replayed his and Yeosang’s morning. Their little quarrel, their quiet moments which spoke louder than anything they said before, Yeosang almost crying afterwards, and Wooyoung kissing him and threatening to tickle him if he didn’t smile. Their little date, the cake they shared, the chocolate glazed strawberries Wooyoung got for him, and the way Yeosang finally smiled when he playfully hit his arm with his sweater paw. The red beret he wore. His fake, round glasses. His dark, sleek hair. The tiny dollop of whip cream at the corner of his mouth which Wooyoung wiped off with his finger. The way they walked by the river, and how Yeosang looked to his left and right before kissing Wooyoung’s hand, and the apologetic, yet filled with affection look he gave him before they had to part ways.

Wooyoung had not been able to think about anything else. He might not have been gifted with as many talents as Yeosang, but whoever made him gave him the power to make Yeosang smile when he was at his darkest, and for that, he could not have been more grateful.

He got a message from the two girlfriends who helped him out with the costume, and he went to have lunch together with them, and other two of his course mates. He was out of it, but he still managed to put on his happy mask. He messaged Yeosang to remind him how much he loved him, and the same second he sent his message, he received one from Yeosang saying the same thing, but with less hearts. Then he laughed at how flustered Yeosang got, which he expressed through his endless keyboard smash and crying emojis. He hid his phone when the others questioned what he was looking at.

At the end of his next class, when he had a ten minute break, he messaged Seonghwa asking what was Yeosang’s favourite flower. Seonghwa’s response made him want to toss himself out the window:

Yeosangie was watching a video on my phone when you sent that and now he’s hiding somewhere.

Wooyoung sent him a string of curse words back, to which Seonghwa laughed at. Wooyoung moved on from it and went to class. That was not going to stop him from executing his plan.

[Sugar  ♥ ]

16:13

Miniature roses.

Pink. 

[Me]

16:28

I can’t believe u did this to me.

[Sugar  ♥ ]

16:31

I’m sorry ;((( I didn’t know

But I skjklklaj

I’ll still have them D;

IM NOT SAYING U SHOULD

Idk

BRING ME FLOWERS

But I-

I won’t say no??

…

Sorry.

[Me]

16:52

It’s ok

[Sugar  ♥ ]

17:22

You sound upset…

[Me]

17:36

No, I was in class

When do you finish there

[Sugar  ♥ ]

17:37

In an hour or two?

Wooyoung cursed for the millionth time and sprinted out of the building, searching up on his phone the nearest flower shop, but he stumbled upon one when he lifted his eyes up from the screen. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him again. Not that he minded it, but he was not used to life giving him a break.

The said flower shop was owned by a married couple, and it was bigger than his and San’s apartment. When asked what he was looking for, his brain blanked out and said “Those tiny roses.” But the flower shop lady thought nothing of it and guided him to where they kept the rose boxes. Wooyoung eyed the pink roses with a possessiveness to rival a lioness’, but picked them up gently. As gently as his heart carried Yeosang’s being. When asked who they were for, Wooyoung calculated his time. He paid for the flowers, stuck his wallet back in his pocket, picked the box up and said: “For my boyfriend.” And sprinted out before witnessing any reactions. 

[Seonghwa hyung]

18:10

I want to make up for spoiling your plan

[Me]

18:10

Cool send me your location

[Seonghwa hyung]

18:10

You cannot possibly be coming here

[Me]

18:10

DID I STUTTER

[Seonghwa hyung]

18:10

I’ll send you the location…

I would also like to take this chance and say that

You are truly precious

You deserve the world

[Me]

18:10

I have it.

I’m coming to see him now.

_________________

[Me]

17:53

Listen I ;((( Love Yeosang with all my heart I swear

But being his bf stresses me out more than uni and work together 

[Sannie]

17:54

You’re doing this to yourself???

Just buy the bloody flowers and wait for him at his place

[Me]

17:58

No, listen, he mumbled something this morning

And I asked him what and he didn’t wanna repeat

BUT I AM 10000% SURE HE SAID

‘I’m not good for u’

And I got SO MAD 

So now I’m here like

FUMING FIRST OF ALL

Running from one side of town to another 

JUST TO SHOW THE FUCKER

THAT HE IS GOOD FOR ME AND THAT

I LOVE HIM 

[Sannie]

18:00

THE FUCKER SKSKDHDJSKS

BLESS HIM

WHY ARE YOU CURSING HIM

[Me]

18:01

Sannie he’s so annoying ;(((

I wanna cry but I love him

[Sannie]

18:03

Hypothetically

What if your plan doesn’t work out

[Me]

18:04

I HAVE THE POWER OF SEONGHWA

AND ANIME

ON MY SIDE

It’s gonna work out :)

Bc if it doesn’t :)

I will shove myself in this fucking rose box :)

Until I will be reborn as a rose :)

And prick the fuck out of Yeosang :)

[Sannie]

18:05

Leave him alone omg

[Me]

18:05

I love him sm I swear

But the talk this morning messed me up

I think I am partly mad at him

And I think I’m PARTLY doing this just to prove myself

That I love him more than I’m mad

I’m so stressed I need a hug

[Sannie]

18:06

I would give u one ;(

He tossed his head back on the chair’s backrest and dropped his phone on his lap. His heart was in the mood for some slow, love songs, but he went to his Alternative 90s playlist instead to trick himself into thinking he had everything under control. He checked the maps app every five minutes, and when it was time to commute the trains, he bought himself three of those mini whiskey bottles and downed one during his wait. On the ride with the second train, he sat by the window and looked straight into the setting sun when a slower song started playing. The sky was darker at its highest, and warm coloured at its lowest, and Wooyoung thought how good Yeosang would look in those colours. Then he remembered what he was there to practice for. He remembered the costume, the countless needle pricks he’s gotten because of it, and the minutes he and Hongjoong had spent separating his fingers from having been glued together. He took a picture of the sky as reference for the makeup he had in mind. No, he had not yet decided on which one to go for. He had a list of over twenty reasons why he was excited for Yeosang to see his masterpiece, but one of the ones at the bottom of the list was the amount of hours he had to subject him to when he was going to test the body makeup on him.

Hongjoong once told him about how stubborn they tended to get when it came to Seonghwa’s costumes. They trusted Wooyoung and his skills, but when it came to Seonghwa, they wanted to be in control of everything. Not long ago they sent Wooyoung a picture of the mess their home workshop was, and that was not even for a costume. Seonghwa randomly told them about how much he wanted a shirt with embroidered lavenders on it, right over the chest area. He had a dream where he wore a shirt like that, and as he was relating his dream, Hongjoong was sketching the shirt while sitting in the passenger’s seat. Wooyoung had a hard time.

It was because of people like Hongjoong that Wooyoung did not feel so bad about himself. Neither of them ran away from what they felt, and they were both in good relationships with their hearts. They used their brain to think about themselves, and their hearts to think about others. 

The place he was headed to was a circus training space, where both Seonghwa and Yeosang had connections. He was currently walking through the new area while he was waiting for Seonghwa’s update. Taking advantage of the remaining time, he drank his second tiny bottle, not that he needed it, but the nervousness in his diaphragm made him weak to the cold. He chanted to himself that everything was okay and that he got this, until Seonghwa messaged him that he’ll let Yeosang go first to give them some time alone, and “I’ll make my grand entrance later ;)”.

Wooyoung has never met anyone godsent, until Park Seonghwa.

He looked for Seonghwa’s car, hiding the last tiny bottle in his pocket, and shielding the roses from the wind.

Yeosang walked out of the building spinning Seonghwa’s car keys around his finger, and attentively typing something on his phone. One second later, Wooyoung’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he smiled. Even wider at the way Yeosang startled when he saw him. He dropped the keys from his hand, and almost juggled the phone in his hand when it slipped. “You scared me.”

Wooyoung scanned the parking lot for people, and went to quickly kiss Yeosang’s forehead. “Good.” And as he did, he passed the rose box into Yeosang’s hands. “Here.”

Yeosang held it close to his chest as if it was a plush toy, his lips and tongue having lost the ability to form words. The message he sent Wooyoung two seconds earlier was to ask him where he was, and as he walked out he thought about how much he wanted to see him. He spent his entire day haunted by the thought that Wooyoung was mad at him, and his breaks typing down apologies and explanations. His break was ten minutes, and when those ran out, he realised how much he had to say to Wooyoung.

He opened the car door and they both sat down in the backseat, leaving room for one more person between them. On Yeosang’s tongue, flowers in the form of words of gratitude bloomed, and in his head, he and Wooyoung were already home, spending time together and talking and playing with Ari and laughing and kissing in his bedroom. But when he looked to his right, Wooyoung was looking out the window, softly tapping his finger against his thigh. Quiet rock music was playing from the headphones around his neck, so he was probably tapping to the rhythm.

He was horrified at the thought that minutes might have passed in which he failed to say something, and in which his hands hurt at how tight he was holding the box.

“Thank you,” He said, unhappy with how quiet and choked out his voice sounded. He cleared his throat discretely and tried again. “So much.” He leaned his hand over the space between them in attempt to scoot closer, but then changed his mind and thought about reaching to take his hand instead, but drew himself back in the end, loudly swallowing the lump of self hatred that has gathered up in his neck. “I didn’t think you’d…come all the way here.” He quietly pulled his phone out his pocket and messaged Seonghwa, asking him to give them a moment. He looked out the window, at the last ray of sun, and a stroke of competitiveness ran through his mind. He wanted to say at least one percent of what he planned before the sun completely set. “I’m sorry for this morning. I’m sorry for lashing out and for getting defensive. I’m sorry for implying that you don’t appreciate me, when you’ve shown me this every day for almost a month. I don’t know why I said that. I don’t believe it. I don’t think it’s true.” He walked the pad of his finger over the rose petals and inhaled their soft scent. “When I cried, I- I said…I said I’m not good for you.” His head was tilted enough to keep an eye on the sun ray, but he could still see Wooyoung when he turned around and finally faced him. “And I thought this for a long time. I thought about how good you would look with someone else. I don’t know, someone who could challenge you, make you laugh, motivate you to…to work, to draw.” And he swallowed the second lump in his neck. There was nothing he could do about the tremble in his voice. “Someone you wouldn’t be so scared to talk to. And I didn’t know what to do. Do I let you go? Do I leave you to find happiness? But then just the thought of not having you around…It sent me back to a dark place.”

The ray of sun was still, if not a bit dimmer.

“I thought about that too.” Wooyoung confessed. Yeosang’s entire body startled at the words as if something had exploded in close proximity to him. “I thought about what I would be like with someone else too. People from work. People from Uni.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned his head back. He seemed to look at the same one sun ray. Yeosang shook his head, staring down at the flowers, with a voice in his head shrieking at him to beg Wooyoung to stop talking. “But none of them are you.” And the voice with all of its threats and orders and intrusive thoughts, was gone, as quickly as blowing over a lit candle. “They don’t challenge me. They don’t keep me on my feet. They don’t make me laugh like you do. They don’t share the humour we do. They don’t drag and roast me like you do. They don’t motivate me to work, or inspire me to draw.” He chuckledbreathily, silently. “I liked people before. Romantically. But you gotta believe me when I tell you that I literally never thought I’d be brave enough to confess to someone. Or that I’d be dumb enough to fall for someone the second I saw them. And I lived in denial for so fucking long. I had San convince me there was no such thing as love at first sight. I got this job because of you.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. I didn’t know enough about making costumes, but if me sleeping less just to learn more about it…if that meant seeing you every day, then fuck it. Let’s do it. I got drunk at one point and I told San ‘I forgot his name, but he had blue eyes and he’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen in my life.’ Then I said something about cutting my lifespan in half just to look at you one more time.” He sighed. Happily. Relieved. “Not to make this sound bad, but you’d have to try really hard to make me let you go. You’d have to…do the shittiest thing in the relationship textbook for me to let you go.”

Yeosang thought. He didn’t know what relationship textbook Wooyoung’s read, but there were a lot more ‘don’ts’ than ‘do’s’ in his. “…To cheat?"

“Yeah, basically.” Wooyoung sunk his head beneath his scarf. The rims of his glasses were slightly foggy. “Whom am I kidding, I’d forgive you…”

“I would never do that, though. I can’t even cheat at Monopoly, let alone in a relationship.”

Wooyoung cleared his throat as to avoid awkwardness. “I do cheat at Monopoly, but please don’t interpret that further.”

Smiling sincerely for the first time that day, Yeosang made up his mind and went to fill the little space between them, and brush his cheek against Wooyoung’s shoulder until he gave him a side hug. “I know it’s bad, but if you did that…I’d forgive you too. I’m weak, I’d forgive you for everything.”

Wooyoung huffed out a defeated laugh. “…Yeah, I’m weak too.” He tilted Yeosang’s chin up with his other hand and kissed his lips softly and languidly, then tucked Yeosang’s head to his chest as he kissed his head. “I’m glad we talked it out. ”

Yeosang nodded, turning his head to the side to listen to Wooyoung’s heart. “Thank you for being honest. And for coming here. And for the flowers.Thank you for staying and for listening.”

Wooyoung rested his cheek atop of Yeosang’s head, cooing as he rocked him left and right. “Thank you for existing. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Without having known, both of them closed their eyes and melting into each other, and sat in silence, happy, assured, and grateful.

Until Yeosang opened his eyes and released himself from Wooyoung’s embrace. “Seonghwa hyung.”

“Fuck, I forgot about him. Text him. —Never mind, there he is.”

“Woo, I know we just talked about cheating, but…hyung is really pretty. Like, look at him.”

“I know. I’m honoured to look at him. Let alone having met him.”

“I don’t know if I’m more envious of him or Hongjoongie hyung.”

“Same. I’d say both.”

Seonghwa opened the door violently, with an offended look on his face, and popped his head in. “Why were you both staring at me when you were supposed to be talking?”

“We did talk.”

“Yeah, we were just in awe at how pretty you are.”

“I smell lies.” He concluded, and went on ahead reached for his seatbelt. “I’m joking, loves, did you have enough time?”

“Yeah, I was just about to text you. Thank you.”

“No worries. I got scared because I’ve never seen Wooyoung curse so much.”

“Look, it all worked out in the end. Everything’s fine.”

“I know I should not be the one to say this, but the world needs more men like you.”

Yeosang interlocked his fingers with Wooyoung and pulled his entire arm towards him. “No, it doesn’t.”

“You don’t wanna share Wooyoungie?”

“No.”

“Not even metaphorically?”

“No.”

With a genuine smile on, Seonghwa buckled his seatbelt and adjusted the rear mirror, stopping for a second just to look at the other two.

That day, after the message incident, Seonghwa went to search for Yeosang and cheer him up, but when he found him, he saw him smiling and looking through a website that sold art supplies. From there, Seonghwa had a moment where he remembered how Yeosang used to be and how much Wooyoung’s presence changed him. Surprisingly, he did not deny anything. He knew he had changed, and he had changed for better.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung said. Seonghwa looked at him through the rear mirror and hummed. “How do you feel about cheating?”

Seonghwa waited until the first red traffic light to turn around and shoot a hellish glare towards Wooyoung. Yeosang was quick to defend him. “We just talked about it too, and wanted to know how you feel about it.”

“There’s nothing to discuss about it. Being disloyal is wrong and unforgivable.”

“You would not forgive the other person?”

“You must be out of your mind to forgive someone who’s betrayed your trust.”

In the backseat, Yeosang and Wooyoung shared a glance, then looked back down, their hands still together.

“People who even think about cheating are not fit for a relationship.”

“Do you speak from experience, hyung?”

“Wooyoung, do you want me to drop you off here, in the middle of the street?”

“No, hyung.”

“I’m thinking about situations when someone’s so unhappy, that they resort to cheating, because there’s other things involved.” Yeosang said. “I guess there’s couples out there who…agreed they have no feelings for each other so they search for other people, but don’t break up because…family. Inheritance. I don’t know.”

“Yes, but I don’t think- Oh, one second.” Seonghwa said, answering Hongjoong’s call and putting it on speaker. “Yes, dear.”

_ “Ma lune et ma lumière des étoiles!” _

Seonghwa giggled, surprised by Hongjoong’s sudden French. “ _Oui, mon petit amour, tu va bien? T’es où?”_

_ “Dehors.” _

_ “Et pourquoi tu parle comme ça?” _

_ “J’ai…J’ai la tête qui tourne…Pas ivre. Je suis pas ivre. Pas encore. Au moins. C'était un accident.” _

_ “D’accord, es tu m’appelé pour me demande si je peux venir te chercher.” _

Hongjoong laughed, and it was safe to say that everyone in the car gained ten years to their lifespan. That was all Wooyoung understood from what he said anyway. _“Oui, s'il te plaît, mes rayons de soleil et de lune, et toutes mes étoiles!”_

Seonghwa sighed like a tired parent, and visibly struggled to contain his affection when Hongjoong giggled again. “ _Quand_?”

_ “N’importe quand. Mais ne m'oublie pas.” _

_“Jamais._ ”

Wooyoung shifted his eyes from one to another, mildly offended that he was the only clueless one. Yeosang seemed to empathise, and even smile at each other through the rear mirror. Wooyoung leaned in, and while Hongjoong was busy being cute and speaking in whatever cryptic language was that. However, it took him one key word for him to recognise it as French. “What the fuck is happening?” He asked, confident that he was not the only clueless one.

“Oh, um,” Yeosang began, clearing his throat and trying to remember how the conversation went. “Hongjoong hyung is somewhere outside, and then hyung asked them why they’re talking like that, and then they said that they’re feeling…Hyung, ‘tête qui tourne’ is like…head spinning around?”

“I think they meant they were dizzy, honestly. They caught me off guard.”

“Yes, they were dizzy. And then Seonghwa hyung said ‘So you want me to pick you up’, and Hongjoongie hyung said ‘Yes, please, my sun rays, my moon rays, and all of my stars’…Also ‘Don’t forget about me’.”

Wooyoung blinked. “Why the fuck do you know that?”

“I see Yeosangie never told you he speaks French.”

“…Please stop this car, I’m leaving. Goodbye.” Wooyoung decided suddenly, pretending to open the car door, but Yeosang smacked his arm back around Wooyoung’s arm and clutched it tightly. 

“It wasn’t a secret. We just never talked about it. I’m not as good as hyung is.”

“Say something in French, and I’ll forgive you.”

“ _J’ai ne pas besoin de ton pardon_ , but anyway.”

“…The only thing I got from that was ‘pardon’, in which case, I refuse to.”

Seonghwa puffed out a laugh, and Yeosang hid his face to Wooyoung’s arm as he did. “That’s not what I said.”

“Well that’s what I think you said.”

“I said I don’t need you to forgive me.”

“Amazing. I’ll go take a nap, wake me up when you’re done flexing with your French.”

After how hectic that day had been, Yeosang did not have it in him to try and convince Wooyoung to wait until they get home. The amount of ‘power naps’ he resorted to worried him. He patted him, but all Wooyoung did was to turn around and hide his hands to his armpits to keep them warm. Yeosang and Seonghwa stole glances at each other. Well, Seonghwa more than Yeosang, because nothing could ever stop him from being a concerned older brother.

When he got a message and his screen lit up, Yeosang noticed that Seonghwa’s lock screen picture was one of Hongjoong. Their back was facing the camera, and they seemed to be somewhere on a restaurant balcony, facing the sea, sitting at a table with their chin in their palm. Their hair and peacock feather earring was gently blowing, giving the picture a nice effect, and the sunset light outlined their already gold hair. Yeosang found it hard to look away from it, but his heart did a flip when he thought about the context of the picture. Them two by the sea, having dinner maybe, quality time alone, and Seonghwa bending down to kiss Hongjoong, as he’s seen him do before. But the most violent of tendencies Yeosang’s ever gotten was when he saw Hongjoong raising to their tiptoes to kiss Seonghwa. Which was probably the second cutest thing he’s ever seen. The first one being Wooyoung babying Ariadne.

“Woo- oh.”

“What happened?” Seonghwa turned around, mildly concerned, but smiled when he saw Wooyoung deep asleep with his head slightly tilted forward and his cheek squished against his shoulder. 

“I kind of don’t want to wake him up.” Yeosang whispered, leaning a reluctant hand on Wooyoung’s arm.

“Then don’t. We can wait for a few minutes.”

“Aren’t you in a hurry?”

“No. My Hongjoongie’s at someone’s birthday party now, so I’ll let them stay. I’ll go home, leave the car, then walk it there, and then drive their car back. It’s not the first time they drive somewhere and they…drink. Nor is it the first time they call me to pick them up.”

“But, hyung, are you…together?”

Seonghwa leaned his chin on the edge of his seat’s backrest, eyes downcast, and with a sad smile on his lips. “…Not yet. It feels like we are. I would like to think so…I’ve been thinking about asking them.”

Yeosang sensed Seonghwa’s slight discomfort on the subject and did not press it further. Wooyoung shifted next to him, and as he did, a small bottle fell out his pocket. Yeosang picked it up, read the label, and looked back at Wooyoung, who was frowning in his sleep. He had mixed feelings about him having alcohol with him, no matter in which quantity, but he considered how that day had been for them as a couple, and decided to put the bottle back and zip up the pocket.

Still in his sleep, Wooyoung hissed in pain and his shoulders jolted up. Yeosang gave Seonghwa a worried look before going to put his hand over Wooyoung’s. At the sudden contact, he almost jumped out of his seat, his lower lip trembling in shock. “It’s me. You’re okay.”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry. You were having a nightmare.”

Wooyoung nodded and looked out the window. He picked his bag up and zipped up his jacket. “Hyung, thank you for everything today.”

“No need. You made today more exciting.”

*

Wooyoung fell into an even deeper sleep, with his sketchbook on his lap and Ariadne’s next to him. Seeing how crooked his neck was, and thinking about the pain he was going to wake up to, Yeosang walked over to him to wake him up and send him back to sleep in a normal bed, but considering how he nearly gave him a heart attack earlier on that day, he did not know which method was the gentlest.

It has been around two hours since they arrived home. Two hours they spent living their calmest and most domestic life. Cooking and eating together, talking about work and what they did while they were apart, and Yeosang never ceasing to show his admiration for the effort that Wooyoung made that day. During dinner, Yeosang found out that Wooyoung had a little brother, and only then it struck him how little he knew about his partner. But also, how unnecessary it was to know everything. While Wooyoung was on the phone with his family, Yeosang took his time researching about sleep, and what it meant to jolt up in horror when awakened. The more he read about the cause of nightmares, the more worried he became, and stopped reading.

When Wooyoung returned, Yeosang tried to bring the subject back, casually asking him if he had a bad dream. Yeosang didn’t know if he was reading too much into it, or if the topic of his sleep schedule was one Wooyoung dismissed quickly.

He sat next to him, and for a quiet moment, he admired the view. How at peace Ariadne felt next to Wooyoung, and how nice it felt to have someone so comfortable in his house. And how he woke up in the middle of the night bumping his forehead against Wooyoung’s back, forgetting that for the first time since he moved there, no one else slept next to him.

Wooyoung’s fingers were relaxed, and he had not twitched once, so Yeosang took the liberty to rest his hand over his, then lightly tap it. Wooyoung groaned and moved his neck, but did not wake up. If the muscle ache was not enough to wake up, then Yeosang assumed he was okay.

He tip-toed around the house, made himself his herbal tea in utmost silence, covered Wooyoung with a blanket, then sat next to him and read his book.

The neighbours below played music at some point, Ari shifted her position, and some guy yelled at someone else outside. But what woke Wooyoung up was the sound of Yeosang turning the pages. “What’re you reading?” He mumbled, and Yeosang almost jumped like Ari did when he snuck up behind her.

Yeosang scooted away from him and hid his book behind his back. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m awake. Tell me what you’re reading.” Wooyoung mumbled, rubbing his eyes and putting his glasses back on.

“…No.”

Wooyoung groaned and shifted to his knees, jumping forward over Yeosang when he turned to run away. He stole the book from Yeosang’s hand and held it above him as he pinned one of his wrists down. The book was white with gold writing, and a thin, silk bookmark poking out from hallway through, and the title read: ‘Greek myths and tales’. Wooyoung’s heart swelled and underneath him, Yeosang hit his forehead against the couch in embarrassment. “You’re so cute.” He released Yeosang’s hand and proceeded to sit on him like he did when he massaged his back, flipping through the pages. He was currently reading about ‘The Seven Against Thebes’. “You didn’t tell me you’re into this.”

“I’m not. Give it back.”

“Well if you’re not into it then I’m not giving it back. It’s a pretty book.”

“…Woo,”

Wooyoung laughed and placed the book on the floor, then leaned all over Yeosang, resting his cheek against the back of his head. “Tell me a myth?”

“No. Get off me.”

Instead, Wooyoung kissed the back of his neck and rubbed the tip of his nose through Yeosang’s hair, then his cheek, and when Yeosang refused to give him a reaction, he resorted to biting his ear. Yeosang ducked his head in, and reached his hand to yank Wooyoung’s hair, but he only bit him harder. He let him go when he heard Wooyoung giggling against his skin, and when he touched his waist to threaten to tickle him, Yeosang giggled too as he begged Wooyoung not to. “Why do you have so much energy?”

“Because I’m rested. And I love,” He kissed Yeosang’s cheek “Love,” and temple, “Waking up to you. And I can’t contain it. I have to smother you in kisses.”

“And fight me apparently.”

“Well no because you don’t fight back.”

Wooyoung crawled off him, and he did not hesitate one second to pull Yeosang back once he stood up too. He was unusually pliant and had not said a word when Wooyoung kissed his head the tenth time. While Wooyoung was busy stroking his cheek against his hair again, Yeosang reached for Wooyoung’s sketchbook and checked the drawing he was currently working on. It was a picture of a corner of a bed and the shadows of the spring trees outside against the wall behind it. He flipped through the pages, spending a generous amount looking at each drawing. Pictures of more trees, seashores and birds, one that was surely the view from the University window. But once he flipped the page, Wooyoung’s lips on him left a numb feeling after. Minimalist portraits of mostly men, from Disney princes, to actors, to some guys Yeosang did not recognise. He looked like he sat on the other side of the table from (assuming) Wooyoung, with his chin in his hand and looking towards his right. He wore a scarf and glasses, and had a coffee cup in front of him. Yeosang swallowed and turned the page. Now Wooyoung’s head was against his back and he had stopped kissing him so aggressively. The next picture was of another guy, still on the other side of a desk, in front of a laptop, with a pack of cigarettes next to him. Yeosang flipped one more page, saw two more drawings of the same two guys, and closed it. “You like drawing boys?” Yeosang asked, with enough offence in his voice to surprise even himself.

“I like drawing lots of things. Not just boys.”

“Who are they?”

“Friends from Uni. You wanna meet them?”

“No.”

Wooyoung pinched Yeosang’s shirt and lightly tugged on it. “Look at me?” But Yeosang didn’t. “Come on, turn around.”

“And what?”

“And…let’s do something. Let’s talk about something.” But Yeosang still refused to relent. “Listen, you’re really cute when you pout, but I can’t tell if you’re playing with me or if you’re actually upset.”

“I’m not upset. I was just thinking.”

“…Can I think with you?”

“Is that a new way of asking ‘What are you thinking about’?”

“Pretty much.”

Wooyoung gave Yeosang enough room to roll over, and as soon as he did, his chest became an empty target for Ariadne, instantly jumping on him and nestling over his heart. Although she was ready to fall asleep, Yeosang grabbed her face and kissed her head, then gently rubbed her ears until her eyes became heavy and droopy. “I was thinking about us. But nothing specific.” Yeosang spoke soft and quieter than before, as if Ariadne could hear him, but only she knew how much the vibrations in Yeosang’s chest helped her sleep.

“San said that people find couples like us fascinating because we’re so secretive.”

“But are we secretive?”

“I’d say so. We don’t share much.”

“Are you the type to share?”

“Only if I’m provoked.”

“What does that mean?”

“If one guy will come to me saying that he has the best boyfriend in the whole world, imma turn around and be like ‘Sit down and lemme tell you why you’re factually incorrect’.”

Yeosang pressed his eyes closed, his shoulders shaking and his nose scrunching up in laughter, trying not to wake the cat up. As he was lying down on his back, Wooyoung lifted Yeosang’s legs, sat down, then placed them back across his lap. Yeosang smiled at him in a very domestic way, like he did not need to go overboard with showing his feelings for him to be understood. Wooyoung laid a hand on his knee, caressing him up to his thigh, and although Yeosang enjoyed the feeling, the alarms in his head went off when Wooyoung’s hand travelled too high. He bent his knees as to curl himself up, but Wooyoung retracted his hand apologetically.

“No, you can…You can do it.” He said, although he knew Wooyoung was not going to.

The moment Yeosang’s hand let go of Ari, the sensation of him rubbing oil into the skin of Wooyoung’s back returned into his sensors. Then embarrassment washed over him when he recalled what he had done after.

“You don’t seem the type to share things.” Wooyoung said, sensing Yeosang’s discomfort, and doing his best to continue the conversation with the same cheerfulness.

Yeosang shook his head, because he did not have another answer. He has never had anything worth sharing before. He knew people had a habit of boasting about what they did or didn’t with their partners as if it was their personal achievement. And sometimes these brags came in the form of complaints that Yeosang had no choice but to be a witness to. ‘He always finishes too fast, he’s no fun’ he heard someone say, and he had been thinking about it since. He thought someone finishing fast was a good thing because it meant the other person was able to satisfy them as much as they needed.

If ‘boyfriend of the year’ was a real thing, he would not hesitate to refuse the award. He was nowhere near being the best, and he knew that too well. Wooyoung was good with words, and they made Yeosang feel much more than his hands did sometimes. He knew Wooyoung said that to boost his self esteem.

“When was the first time you kissed a boy?” He asked, staring at the ceiling.

Wooyoung joined in, and it seemed like they were stargazing. “Two years ago. You?”

Yeosang inhaled quietly. “When did we kiss…Was it two weeks ago? I don’t remember.”

Patting his leg joyfully, Wooyoung smiled to himself. “I was your first, huh…”

“You’re my first in everything.”

“And are you cool with that?”

“…Yeah.”

“Why’d you hesitate?”

Ariadne’s forepaw twitched, and Yeosang’s hands rushed back to hold her. “It’s a scary world, that’s why.” He meditated, his eyes shifting to different spots on the silver ceiling, like there were indeed stars. Wooyoung’s hand had not moved from his knee. “Relationships, I mean.”

“I’m here if you need to talk.”

“But is it the right time? To talk?”

“It’s always the right time to talk when we’re alone, baby.”

Yeosang’s soul and spirit and astral body were exalted, and had gained the ability to project themselves in places that lied on the other side of black holes and beneath nebulas, and he had lost count of the times he had to force himself to return to the present and person before him. His body sought touch and attention, and if he thought about it a bit more, he could pinpoint the exact moment Wooyoung touched his soul and spirit where they were most sensitive.

“If it’s not too much to ask…Do you think you could,” He inhaled deeply. Wooyoung’s eyes were on his scarlet cheeks. “Do you think you could ease me into it? The, um, the idea of it? I’m ready to talk about it now. I think.”

The question was so vague that it took Wooyoung several seconds to figure it out. And he was proud he did. “I can, but I need you to tell me how.”

“How?”

Beyond Yeosang’s chest lied his purity.

“Yeah. How much do you want at once? Do you want to ask me things? Do you want me to tell you what I know?”

Yeosang shook his head, making his fluffy hair bounce. “I’m not sure. I don’t know, I…”

Wooyoung ran his hand up and down Yeosang’s shin, encouragingly yet tenderly, to relieve the tension. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. In fact, how about you tell me why you’re so nervous? We could start from there.”

With a nod, Yeosang grabbed hold of Ariadne, securing her in his arms as if she was a human baby, and walked her over to her plush bed, leaning all the way down and setting her down as slowly as it was humanly possible. He got stuck when her claw remained hooked against his shirt, but Wooyoung walked over, took her little paw between his thumb and forefinger and pulled gently. What followed was a moment of them just watching the cat with their hearts between their teeth to see if she’d wake up. Yeosang looked at her lovingly, clenching his fist over his chest. Wooyoung kissed his temple.

They tiptoed to Yeosang’s bedroom and closed the door, where Wooyoung settled down on the bed, his hands dug into the mattress, slightly leaned back, and his knees fully opened. Yeosang’s eyes cruised all over Wooyoung’s body, his back still pressed against the door. He hid his hands behind his back and walked in circles around the room, looking for ways to summarise the myriad of fears and issues and misunderstandings that floated around his heart.

“I’m scared because…I don’t know things. Because it’s stupid. And I feel stupid for not knowing and- and it’s so lame of me to ask and-”

“Wait, what’s stupid?”

“I don’t know. Me. I’m dumb. I’m an idiot. I’m stupid for not knowing anything.”

“…You’re not? Who told you it’s stupid?” Wooyoung asked, and the way Yeosang turned around so their eyes won’t meet was enough for an answer. “Are you scared of it? Scared of having sex?” Yeosang nodded. “Why?” Wooyoung attempted, although Yeosang said nothing. “Are you scared of the pain?” Yeosang shook his head. “Scared of…commitment?” He shook his head again.

“…I feel so stupid.”

Wooyoung sighed heavily. “Come to me.” And welcomed Yeosang with open arms.The tips of their fingers brushed against each other, drawn like magnets, and instinctively laced together. Wooyoung could feel Yeosang’s pulse through his hand.

“…Did you keep yourself for someone special?” Yeosang managed.

Wooyoung bit his tongue behind his teeth. “No. I didn’t take it seriously. I did everything for fun and now I feel bad…But there’s no right or wrong. What you do with your body is not an opinion. It’s a decision that concerns no one else, but you. The things we do with our bodies should be the outcome of decisions we are proud of. Should be. Sometimes they are not. But you are respecting your own decision. And you should be proud of it.”

“…I just- I…I think of it as a gift. And…it’s stupid.”

“It’s not. Continue.”

“It’s like…giving someone…something that’s part of you…and…and only that person can have that part of you. I’m sorry, this sounds so stupid.”

“Who told you this?” Yeosang’s eyes were unwavering, but not out of discomfort. It was like someone had placed pricks on his tongue, and if he spoke, he’d get stung. “I’m sorry I’m pressing this, but I want to know. Was there someone else who made you feel like this is stupid?” In the end, Yeosang nodded. “Because if there was, this person has some issues.”

Wooyoung rubbed circles on Yeosang’s hand, and sighed as he did when he had a boost of inspiration and was ready to commit himself to a project he’d finish in one night. Determined, if anything. He felt his neurons sparking with connections and ideas, and as he comforted Yeosang, he already formed three theories in his head. But that day, and that moment, was not about anyone else. “Trust me?”

Yeosang gave him a shy nod. “I’m sorry for running away like that. The first time this morning, I mean.”

“And I’m sorry for startling you.”

“See, you shouldn’t feel sorry for startling me. I should…get over myself instead. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeo,”

“Yeah?”

Wooyoung stroked his hand reassuringly.

“Will you lie down for me? —Trust me, I won’t do anything you won’t want. It’s okay. Pinkie promise.” Wooyoung assured him, taking his hand and placing butterfly kisses on his little finger.

He hesitantly lied down on the side that Wooyoung slept on the other night, with his hands clenched over his chest. Wooyoung caressed his arms, gently scratching them until he got goosebumps, then leaned over and kissed his hand and knuckles again and again until they relaxed beneath his lips, and Yeosang raised his hands to cup Wooyoung’s face instead. His cheeks were flushed pink, his chest raising unsteadily. “I’m gonna touch you. All over. And you’ll have to tell me if it’s okay or not. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Ugh,” Yeosang’s head blanked out at the sudden question. “Red?”

“And your second favourite?”

“Black…I think.”

“And what’s your least favourite colour”

“What’s this have to do with it?”

“Trust me.”

“…I don’t know, yellow?”

“Okay, so…Red is for when you feel comfortable and safe. Black is for when you’re not so comfortable with me touching you there. And yellow is an off-limits areas. But you gotta let me know. It’s like a safety system. Or like a ‘hot and cold’ game.”

Yeosang did not know if the way he sunk down further in the bed mattress was obvious enough for Wooyoung. He nodded, although the amount of detail and care Wooyoung put into this made him want to melt away. There was nothing much left in him, but a great kind of love that held him together. Just the fact that Wooyoung made a safety system for him made him feel secure, loved, important, and most importantly, valid. And all his worries of sounding stupid were now reduced to memories.

But all that flew out the window when Wooyoung touched his chest through his shirt. He was not ready, but he breathed slowly, eyes closed more than opened. He suddenly wished he wore a thinner shirt. Or no shirt at all. “Woo,” he called, and Wooyoung took his hand back. Yeosang almost wanted to whine. “No, put it back.” He placed Wooyoung’s hand back over his collarbones.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you…doing this…through my clothes?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

He nodded in understanding and closed his eyes back, trying to get back into his headspace. A second later, Wooyoung’s palm was against his chest, spreading his fingers as it moved a little more to the right, slowly and patiently, and he held his breath when Wooyoung’s finger brushed over his nipple. “Give me a colour.”

“Red.”

Wooyoung’s hand travelled lower over his stomach, then on the right side of his waist, applying more pressure into the touch.

“Is this…Is this what you’ll do…?” Yeosang whispered, his glance holding Wooyoung’s as he brought his hand up to his neck, caressing the hot skin with one finger, then two. Yeosang took Wooyoung’s hand and kissed his knuckles, just like he did earlier. He held Wooyoung’s hand in both of them, clutching it against his lips.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answered, his smile brimming with love. “But I’d rather use my lips.”

“Your- Oh.”

Wooyoung’s hand lingered over his lips, heat building up in his chest with every slow kiss Yeosang imprinted onto his skin. He slowly took his hand away, and went on tracing Yeosang’s lips with his fingers. “I’ll kiss you slowly…for you to remember how my lips feel here,” He trailed his finger over Yeosang’s stomach “and here,” then higher to in between his collar bones “and…here,” he walked his finger in circles around Yeosang’s nipple. “It feels good, I promise.”

Yeosang inbreathed slowly, like to cover up a need to whimper. “Show me?”

“Next time,” he whispered, softly chuckling when he saw the displeased look on Yeosang’s face. “Don’t look at me like that.” He poked his nose. “Next time I promise I’ll kiss you wherever you want me to.”

“…Anywhere I want? Promise?”

Wooyoung arched his eyebrow, weighing his options and answers. “Yes.” Because Yeosang was too strategic for his own good.

He tilted his head as to explore Wooyoung’s face from a different angle, revealing more of the column of his neck, and inches of his collarbone. Oh, how Wooyoung wanted to frustrate him by pulling his shirt back into place. Yeosang raised his knee to the level of Wooyoung’s hip, gently brushing against the fabric. Too strategic for his own good indeed.

But what kept these two so stimulated in each other’s presence was this unspoken competition they had ongoing. To rile each other up and innocently seduce one another, after which they’d play the clueless act. Wooyoung’s advantage was that he could go all out at once. He chose not to give any warnings, and the boundaries were only a metaphor for how he worked his magic. Yeosang’s advantage, on the other hand, were precisely these boundaries. Boundaries, like landmines, that only someone who was too unfortunate (or too thirsty) enough to step on. Only Yeosang would know when the other would be obliterated. 

Wooyoung’s disadvantage was Yeosang, and Yeosang’s disadvantage was Wooyoung. They both knew this, and they were both making up new rules in their minds.

Wooyoung placed his hand under the back of Yeosang’s knee, pulling it further up to the level of his waist, and slithered his hand to the back of his thigh, one inch per second. He saw Yeosang’s breath hitch in his neck, and his skin looked unusually vulnerable. “Black,” And Wooyoung lifted his hand up and cautiously placed it against his hip, slowly sliding towards the centre of his stomach, as his little finger crawled underneath Yeosang’s shirt. From there, he lifted the palm of his hand up, leaving only the tips of his fingers to trail downwards, lower and lower, until Yeosang would give him a colour. “Keep going,” He said instead.

“No, I can tell you’re not comfortable.”

“Just…Just a little. I’m okay.”

Wooyoung’s eyes opened slightly wider at how Yeosang was visibly melting beneath him. His eyes were pressed closed, and his thighs parted almost unconsciously. Wooyoung relaxed his hand and leaned it back right in between Yeosang’s thighs. “No,” He protested, already knowing that Wooyoung wanted to pull away. “Keep- ugh…I’m okay. I’m okay.” He gulped. “Hug me. Please.” And Wooyoung immediately hooked his arm around his shoulders and lifted his head to the crook of his neck.

“You’re doing good.” He murmured, and bit back a smile when Yeosang whimpered quietly. Wooyoung’s hand hovered around the area, taking in how warm, and how much hotter it was becoming beneath his touch. “So good.”

“I’m good?”

Wooyoung released him gently, setting his head back down, and leaned down to him. “Yeah, baby, you’re doing so good.” And kissed him slow but hard, so much that Yeosang choked out a moan. “Part your lips for me.”

With his fingers sunk through Wooyoung’s hair, Yeosang did as he was told, and his breath stuck hard in his lungs when he felt his tongue brushing against his. He found his wrists being pinned down over his head, secured by both of Wooyoung’s hands. Yeosang brushed his knees against Wooyoung’s hips, and breathed out a moan when he felt his crotch caressed past his. Wooyoung tilted his head the other way, his tongue skilful, searching and claiming. Every thought of freeing his hands flew past Yeosang, as his ears were filled with the wet kissing sounds, and his mind was filled with the thought of that tongue swiping across his chest and stomach and-

Wooyoung pulled away and took in one breath. “Give me a colour,” He groaned before ducking his head back down to carve open-mouthed kisses down Yeosang’s neck, along with sudden bites underneath his jaw.

“Red,” Yeosang moaned, his muscles and joints reduced to thin rubber. “Red all the way, just please,” He begged, falling back soft when Wooyoung kissed him again, just as hard, and he never knew how much he’d missed that tongue.

Wooyoung brushed his groin against his again, and this time they both knew it wasn’t accidental. “Yeah, please.”

“You sure? —Look at me. Are you sure?”

Yeosang nodded enthusiastically, his eyes dilated and glassy. What a sight.

With a nod, Wooyoung adjusted Yeosang’s hands to lay on the sides of his head instead of above it, and crossed their fingers together. He gave another reassuring nod, hooked one of Yeosang’s legs around his hips and held his hand back. He dropped his head back to the column of Yeosang’s neck, and softly inhaled his perfume. “Baby boy, you know I love you more than anything, yeah?”

Yeosang gave a timid nod, along with a whimper. “Y-Yeah…fuh- Yeah. I know.” He swallowed and arched his neck more. “I love you too.”

With a teasing chuckle, Wooyoung sunk his teeth in, earning himself a full moan. “I almost made you curse right there.” And Yeosang giggled, but that was soon to die when Wooyoung kissed his way back to his lips, and when theirs met again, he thrusted his hips forward. Yeosang tossed his head back, his neck arched, his mouth wide open, and a moan came with the second thrust. “Colour,” Wooyoung ordered, not missing a chance to bite his jawline.

“Red.” He sighed, shivering more and more with every inch Wooyoung dragged his lips and teeth across. “It’s red, I swear.”

And so came the third and the fourth thrust, until they both lost count, and filled their entire beings with each other’s presence, warmth, fragrance and taste. Wooyoung let go one of Yeosang’s hands and shoved it underneath his ass, pushing it upwards to meet him better, smiling into the kiss when Yeosang sobbed. “Stop,” He whined “Stop laughing at me.”

Wooyoung kissed his pout away. “I’m sorry, sugar, but I have a lot on my mind now.”

“Like what?” He wiped the tears still forming in his eyes with his free hand.

“I don’t think you want to know.”

Yeosang opened his eyes wide and trapped Wooyoung’s hips between his thighs. “I want to know. Everything.”

“Oh?” Wooyoung seized his jaw between his hand and bit his lip hard, in contrast to how softly he was sucking on it, as his hips were still working back and forth. “You wanna know how cute you look?” And went back to pinning Yeosang’s hands down. “How much I like the sounds you make? Is that what you want to hear?”

Underneath him, Yeosang held his breath in, and his eyes dropped wide open. The ecstasy clouded Wooyoung’s mind, and only after the deed was done, he thought he misinterpreted the look in Yeosang’s eyes for shock, or worse, fear. He was ready to stop and to be pushed away. What he had never expected was to find Yeosang’s hands pushing upwards at the hems of his shirt. “Please.” He whispered, and Wooyoung was magically ridded of his shirt.

Yeosang leaned a hand on Wooyoung’s heart, marvelling at how good it was to feel it beat against his skin. It was beating, however, too fast for his own comfort.

“I can’t, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I’m scared.” It wasn’t what Wooyoung said, but the pain in his voice that shook the grounds of Yeosang’s heart. “I’m scared I’ll hurt you."

Yeosang tossed his head on the pillow, one hand over his mouth. “You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. At all.” Wooyoung leaned a loving hand on Yeosang’s face, caressing his eyelashes, and once again, Yeosang did not close his eyes. Wooyoung smiled. “I’m not doing this to please us. I’m doing this to build more trust. I’m doing this so you can discover me and I can discover you.”

“But is it bad that it feels nice?”

“No. It’s not bad at all. But that’s not my goal.” He entwined their fingers together and pressed endless kisses on his hand. “So please, think of yourself. Think about how much you want to know about you.” He clutched his hand into his and held it to his chest. “My baby, can you do that for me?”

Yeosang eyed him with a trust that was carved in stone, and he let go of Wooyoung’s hand with no hint of fear, because within his hurting chest lied the weight of many tomorrows to come. Hours and days when he could hold that hand once more and not to worry about never keeping his cheek warm again. “…My baby,”

Maybe San and Jongho were not the only ones metaphorically growing a flower together. Wooyoung had this thought at the sight of how Yeosang had flourished underneath him. How he basked in the yellow light and how his skin glowed like gem dust. “I have a lot of- In me. In my chest. And it hurts.”

“A lot of what?”

Yeosang cradled his arms over his chest. Beneath it, Wooyoung saw white. The thin and frail petals, veined and near translucent. How pure was he. “Love. And I don’t know what to do with it.” He said, low and pained. “It hurts.” And his voice seemed to cry into Wooyoung’s. As low and unexplored Yeosang’s voice was, it was heavy with the words he held in his chest. “It hurts a lot when you’re so kind to me.” He broke into whispers. Shattered and weak. “I want to give it to you, but I don’t know how.”

Above him, Wooyoung’s chest was as featherlight as the kisses only Yeosang offered him. And the more he smiled, the more he seemed to share that pain. “Save it. You’ll have so many chances to show me. We’ll be like this for a long time.”

“Long time?”

“Yeah, of course.” He stroked empathies and promises into Yeosang’s skin and hair, never have felt more grateful to all the poor decisions and mistakes he’s made to lead him to that point.“How do you feel?”

“Like I’m ready to…Find things out. I want to see you. And me.”

“Good. We’re gonna try something. It feels good, I promise.” He said, kissing Yeosang’s fingers and holding them against his lips.

Wooyoung dragged his tongue hard across Yeosang’s index and middle finger “Eyes on me.” Before slowly shoving them into his mouth, down to the knuckles. He bobbed his head up and down around the digits, sucking as hard as he would the real thing. He knew if he hadn’t held Yeosang by the wrist, his entire arm would have fallen limp. He slightly grazed the digits with his teeth and his eyes cracked open to indeed find Yeosang watching him in utter fascination. He felt the fingers twitching when he swiped his tongue in between them before licking them individually, his cheeks mildly hollowed, and he made sure to suck loudly in order to keep his promise to entertain. He pulled them out of his mouth to catch his breath, and Yeosang’s eyes fell into that one thin strand of spit connecting the two. “Can I try?” Yeosang attempted, and Wooyoung shoved the fingers back in, letting go of his wrist. His palms now sat over Yeosang’s stomach. Wooyoung’s soft moans filled the room with each flick of Yeosang’s wrist, a bit too shy and slow for his own taste, but it was still progress. Yeosang pushed his fingers in all the way, almost down Wooyoung’s throat, and his mouth almost shaped into an apology, but froze into place when he saw him arching his neck to welcome more in.

Sadly, Wooyoung was too much for him. 

His fingers trembled with every vibration of Wooyoung’s hums and moans, and saliva was running down on him, but there was no room in Yeosang’s mind to feel disgusted.

With one last deep thrust, he slowly pulled them out, and when Wooyoung opened his eyes, Yeosang wiped his mouth with the dry side of his hand. He thought that the way they smiled at each other was almost romantic, until Wooyoung dropped the question:

“You wanna do something about that?” While pointing his eyes down below Yeosang’s waist.

He squeaked and dragged his shirt over it. “I- Ugh,”

“Or should I do something about it?”

Yeosang gulped. “Like what?”

Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders, so careless and so used to it, that Yeosang almost felt annoyed with how comfortable he was. “You want me to use my mouth or my hand?”

What became of Yeosang’s brain was something very similar to a blue screen, a network error, or very weak received signal. Both of these options sounded very appetising. At least imagining it.

However, “You know I’m gonna have to undress you for that, yeah?”

Yeosang overloaded his lungs with air and nodded. “Do it.” And before Wooyoung even thought about asking. “Red. Red is my colour. Dark red. There’s a bit of black in there, but still. Red. I trust you.”

Or so he liked to believe. Wooyoung loved and appreciated his bravery anyway. And he was no literal asshole to take advantage of it.

“Would you rather you did it yourself?”

A few seconds passed in which Yeosang considered, and eventually he sat up and removed his shirt, tossing it over Wooyoung’s. And he could tell Yeosang was not using his brain anymore.

Then he lied back down and gestured for Wooyoung to deal with the rest of his clothes. And he started all over again, with touching him softly as if his skin was a butterfly’s wings, and caressing him in places where he was sensitive. “I love you.” He said, as if he knew, he felt Yeosang’s confidence dropping. “I love you so much.”

A genuine smile painted Yeosang’s lips. “I love you too-”

“And I hate the fact that so many people saw you like this.” His words fell heavy on Yeosang’s chest, and his perpetually gentle touches all over his body sent him mixed signals. “You’re too precious, Yeo. You’re so precious. I can’t tell you how much. How much I value you.”

Yeosang parted his lips to answer, but his words died under his tongue when Wooyoung lowered his head to the level of his navel, placing hard kisses around the area, then moving lower and lower, until he felt his tongue swiping across his hairs. He grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants between his teeth and dragged them down past his hipbones in one clean pull. From there, Yeosang kicked them off. Wooyoung leaned his hand over Yeosang’s chest. Beneath it, his heart was drumming rapidly. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.” And stroked his skin with his thumb. When Yeosang confirmed with a nod, Wooyoung lowered his hand, crooking his finger over the waistband of his briefs, his eyes attentively on his boyfriend’s. He pushed them down slowly, just as afraid. Then Yeosang suddenly clenched his fist and placed it over his lips. “I can’t! I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-” He stuttered, tears welling up at his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

At the first second of his protest, Wooyoung wrapped him in a bear hug, pulling the blanket over his lower body with his other hand. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. No more. It’s over. I promise. No one’s touching you.”

“But I want to. I want you to, but I’m scared, I-” he stammered, his fingers scratching at the skin of Wooyoung’s back. “I’m scared, I don’t know why.”

_I’m scared too_ , Wooyoung wanted to confess again. _Because I don’t know how to make you feel comfortable._

“I’m ruining it, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not. You’re not, it’s okay. You’ve come really far, and I’m proud. You’ve done so much. You’re so brave, baby. I love you.”

“No, I didn’t. I ruined it, I’m sorry.” He wept, and his voice trembled.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Don’t cry now. Everything’s okay.”

“But I want to do it, I swear.”

“I believe you. But don’t force yourself. We have all the time in the world.” He kissed his cheek and lips, squeezing him to his chest one more time. “Should I dress you back?”

“No. No, I’m okay. I can do it. I can do it, I promise.”

Wooyoung would have protested, but he felt Yeosang too stubborn even for his own good. He had no choice but to comply. “Can I…You?” He mumbled, his hands reaching for Wooyoung’s sweatpants.

“Undress me?” He made sure, and Yeosang looked away, nodding. “Sure.” And switched his position, with his knees dug into the mattress, and Yeosang’s thigh right in-between his legs.

His tongue was itching to beg him to stop and not to force himself, but he was nonetheless impressed with his stubbornness. He scratched Yeosang’s hair soothingly, and little over the shell of his ear, as he sunk his finger past his waistband and pulled his pants down until they secured down at the knees. “Listen, you brat, if you’re not comfortable-”

“Can you shut up for once and let me get back into my mindset? Can you literally shut up for two seconds and let me do this? Am I not struggling enough?”

“I-”

“No. Shut up. Just stop talking as if you’re not pointing your dick to my face…You’re so annoying.”

Wooyoung raised his head up to the ceiling and crushed his eyes closed as well as his airways so he won’t laugh.

“I can literally feel you laughing.”

“You’re funny. Who else would just rant while having a dick pointed to their face? Only you.”

Yeosang cancelled every noise that came his way from Wooyoung’s mouth, and went back to circling his hips with his thumbs before hooking his ring finger over the waistband, and pushing the last remaining fabric down with his whole hand. Something in the back of his head was shrieking in despair at all the nakedness presented before him and dedicated only to him. And for a moment, he didn’t know where to look not to make it awkward. Thankfully, Wooyoung’s awkwardness detector was still running smoothly, and he shifted to toss all his clothes onto the floor. Then he went to sit with his back against the headboard. “Come here.”

On his hands and knees, Yeosang made his way to him, shyly, until he found his hips grabbed, and two hot hands caressing his sides. “I trust you. And I love you.” Yeosang mumbled, and Wooyoung’s heart, with a mind of its own, softened at how those words have become key to assuring his safety. Yeosang’s ‘I love yous’ were not confessions, they were reminders. If not warnings.

With a smile on, Wooyoung kissed his hipbones. “I love you too.” He softly licked at Yeosang’s V-line, brushing his nose over his trimmed hairs. His hands circled Yeosang’s hips, with his fingers buried beneath the fabric, and right over his ass.

Yeosang sunk his hand in Wooyoung’s hair, hot and even breaths running past his parted lips, and his head was slightly tilted back. Whimpers were gathering up in his throat with each brush of Wooyoung’s hair stroking his stomach, or his warm lips in places that people only dreamt of seeing up close. His brain and nerves were numbing in his skull as he felt the fabric sliding past his hips, and how Wooyoung purposely allowed the waistband to brush against his erection. He whimpered, his hand now over his mouth, as another lump was crumpling up at the base of his throat. “Shh, come here,” Wooyoung said softly, arms raised to welcome Yeosang in a hug. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” Yeosang nodded, his vision blurry, fumbling around on his shaking knees to kick his briefs off. Wooyoung cupped his face and caressed his cheek soothingly. “You’re doing so good.” And his hands fell back on Yeosang’s hips. “Sit here,” He said, pointing towards his lap with his eyes.

“On…you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

Yeosang nodded again, his eyes yet too pure to look anywhere below Wooyoung’s waist, or their waists for that matter. He sat on people’s laps before, but in a whole different context. The situation he was in then was one that he only heard Yunho talking about, and although he didn’t want to listen, his ears still did.

He dug his knees on both sides of Wooyoung’s hips, and in less than half a second, he thought of a million ways to sit down without gaining any form of friction. Sadly, they were all futile. He grasped Wooyoung’s shoulder tightly as he adjusted his position, his eyes fixed on the door.

“Do you feel like crying?” Wooyoung asked, and a wave of anger surged through Yeosang. One that bubbled up little below his stomach, and crept its way up to his heart. After all his efforts, Wooyoung still sounded concerned more than anything, treating him like a child, and disregarding how many of his boundaries he crossed for him. He did not want Wooyoung to be concerned. He wanted him to be impressed, but his brain was too fogged up to think of better ways.

“If you’re not okay, then-”

With a low, frustrated groan, Yeosang pressed his lips hard against Wooyoung, entwining his arms around his neck, and with one rush of courage, he rolled his hips until their members brushed together. He roughly cupped Wooyoung’s face, his nails cutting into the back of his neck, and took the initiative to deepen the kiss once Wooyoung opened up. With one arm enchained around Yeosang’s lower back, Wooyoung wrapped his free hand around both their members, and giving him a quizzical look, he pulled down their foreskins. Yeosang’s core temperature shifted to accommodate Wooyoung’s strokes. Warm, when he touched him like he learned and studied him, and even warmer when he’d pump faster. Yeosang moaned, and Wooyoung felt him pulling away, so he tightened both his grips, until he did the same. Feeling Yeosang relaxing in his arms was like watching as your finger melts away a thin layer of ice on a flat surface. He bit Wooyoung’s lip and kissed him again, his tongue becoming more and more bold. Wooyoung squeezed them together, smiling into the kiss as Yeosang startled, and with the same tight hold, he dragged his hand up, cupping their glands together and fondling them into the palm of his hand before going back to pumping more rapidly. Wooyoung pulled Yeosang even closer, ducking his head down, and covering his nipple in open mouthed kisses, and flicking his tongue over it until it glowed with spit. For a moment he met Yeosang’s eyes when he looked up, and with a grin, he said “Keep looking at me,” before going on to bite the nub teasingly. Yeosang’s entire body quaked with a red wave, his head falling forward, and his knees growing weak, even if he was sat. Through his glassy eyes, he lowered his head to look at Wooyoung, at the string of spit that connected their skins as he pulled away, how his lips tensed up with red as he sucked the blood out of him, and how his eyebrows would furrow when he’d begin pumping even faster. “You wanna cum on me?” Wooyoung moaned as he bit his lip, and Yeosang did not miss a chance to claim them again, humming affirmatively into the kiss as he did. Wooyoung sucked away all of Yeosang’s whimpers, and swallowed them up as if he claimed them, and with a low groan, he came all over himself, relaxing his grip as Yeosang followed. He hid his face shamefully to the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, quiet and exhausted sobs rolling off his tongue. “I’m so fucking proud of you, baby.” He mumbled to the shell of Yeosang’s ear, licking his helix to pull one more moan out of him. He rubbed his thumb over both of their glands, mingling the beads of their cum together, because at that time there was nothing he could have been ashamed of.

Eventually Yeosang lifted his head up, and for the first time, he looked down at Wooyoung’s hand, visibly shocked, if not somewhat disgusted. Then majorly confused when he saw the proud look on Wooyoung’s face. All that, yet a thought which seemed intrusive told him to enclose his thighs around Wooyoung’s hand just to hold him tighter. His hand felt too good there, soft and warm.

“You don’t like it?” Wooyoung asked, a hint of amusement on his face. Yeosang looked at him without answering, before reaching his hand out to place it over his, and from there, trailing his index finger up to the sperm laying around the tip of Wooyoung’s member. He swirled it around the pink glans with a mesmerised look on his face, his chest heaving up and down in quiet huffs. “It’s a mess.”

“And you’re making it an even bigger mess.” Wooyoung teased, scooping up cum with Yeosang’s finger and sticking it into his mouth. When he saw Yeosang too stunned to reach, he repeated the action, but this time swiping the side of his fingeragainst his stomach.

“You…You ate that…” Yeosang whispered, looking as if what lied before him was something of the supernatural. “You put that in your mouth. Is that normal? Are you supposed to do that?” He blinked repeatedly.

Wooyoung laughed, setting Yeosang’s hand down, and holding it into his instead. “You’re not ‘supposed to’, but I like doing that sometimes.”

“…Sometimes.”

“…Obviously I’ll only do it to you from now on.”

Yeosang pulled his lower lip slightly over the top one, in a cute pout, and Wooyoung puckered his lips, making kissy sounds to suggest that he wanted one, but Yeosang didn’t fall for it. Wooyoung tapped Yeosang’s thigh to tell him to move off him. “I gotta clean up. Lemme go-”

“No.” Yeosang shook his head. “I don’t want to. Not yet.”

“…I’m gonna be back in five seconds.”

“I said no.” Yeosang hugged him, his arms around his neck, and their chests pressed together. He took Wooyoung’s arm and placed it around him too. “Hug me.”

“Oh, sugar,” Wooyoung cooed, kissing Yeosang’s temple in the process. One arm was wrapped around his waist, and the other was finally resting on his thigh.

“Did I do well?” Yeosang murmured. Wooyoung could hear his lips still shaped in a pout.

Taking advantage of the fact that Yeosang couldn’t see him, he arched a cheeky eyebrow and softly bit his lip. “Yeah, baby, you did really well. I’m proud.”

“Was I pretty?”

“You looked gorgeous.” He kissed a trail along his shoulder, and softly nibbled at the junction to his neck. “I mean, you’re always so gorgeous, but it was nice seeing you like this.” He kissed him again, and walked his finger up and down his spine. A few seconds had passed, where Wooyoung’s eyes fell closed, and let his other senses speak for himself. He felt Yeosang softening up in his arms, as if lulling him to sleep, and when Wooyoung softly patted his deltoids to make sure he was still there, he heard him quietly snickering. “Why’re you laughing?” Wooyoung asked.

“The amount of things I put you through today. And how well you managed.”

“…I’m impressed myself. But it was fun. Are you about to subject me to more?”

Wooyoung did not expect him to really think about it. “…Actually, I’ve been wanting to ask for something for a while.”

“Ask away.”

“Can you bite me?” Yeosang asked, nonchalantly, devoid of any shame.

“…Sorry?”

Yeosang circled the area between his collarbone and neck. “Here.”

Wooyoung thought the world was about to collapse. “Why?”

“I want to know what it feels like.”

“You want like…a bite? Or a love bite?”

Yeosang gasped, his mouth still agape and his eyes glowing. “Yes, please.”

“Oh, God, why am I giving you ideas?” He ran his finger in circles around the same area and looked at Yeosang once more for confirmation. “…Pull my hair if it hurts.”

“I’ll pull your hair if it feels good.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me…physically.”

Wooyoung nodded, clueless, and added that to the overflowing pile of questions he had for and about the enigma that he called his lover. He held Yeosang still by his waist, hard enough for his fingerprints to transfer to the skin on his ribs, and licked over the bound area over and over again until he felt Yeosang accommodating to the feeling, before sinking his teeth into his skin. At first, just to get a sense of how soft his flesh was, then deeper, enough to leave marks, then he enclosed his lips around it and began sucking passionately, until he felt Yeosang’s blood and pulse beating on his tongue. He felt a hard tug on his hair and he moaned for more, so Yeosang gave. There was something about how he captured the strands of Wooyoung’s hair between his fingers and pulled that made him want to release the skin in his mouth and moan as if he orgasmed.

Yeosang shivered in his hold, head tentatively falling forward. “One more,” he whimpered.

“Where?”

“Wh-Wherever you want.”

Wooyoung grit his teeth, got a good hold of Yeosang’s body, and tossed him off until he sprawled all over the red bed sheets with nothing to hide beneath. As he was about to curl within himself, Wooyoung crawled on top of him, holding his wrists down, and kissing along his neck until he reached the first bite mark. “Tell me where.” He demanded, and released one of Yeosang’s hands. He pointed to his other arm, to the space above his elbow. “Here.”

“Okay. Sit still.” He said, cupping Yeosang’s elbow in his palm and kissing the spot he pointed at. He was reluctant to do it because he knew it was painful, but he was also too long gone to deny Yeosang what he wanted.

“And if I don’t?”

Wooyoung smirked, pinching the skin with his teeth and sucking lightly. Yeosang clenched his fist as his muscles contracted. “Tell me what happens,” Yeosang moaned “If I don’t.” And that moan turned into a near scream when Wooyoung went all in. Yeosang clenched his teeth and punched the bed mattress with his other fist, and Wooyoung smiled into the bite. He yelped in pain and hugged his arm to his chest when Wooyoung released him.

Yeosang panted, his mouth agape, and his eyes teemed with tears. “Another.”

Sweeping Yeosang’s bangs back, Wooyoung held his tongue and allowed his hands to speak for him. He played with Yeosang’s hair, and when he closed his eyes to attempt to relax, Wooyoung yanked lightly, tilting his head back. Yeosang squirmed, but his eyes remained closed, surely out of shame. “What did you want to hear from me, hm? What did you want it to happen if you didn’t sit still?”

Shaking his head erratically, Yeosang held his thighs together, and his head seems to tilt even further back. “Nothing, just, if- if you tell me not to, I…I won’t do it.”

“You don’t like it when I’m permissive with you?”

With an uncomfortable whimper, Yeosang shook his head again. “No.”

“Why not?”

“…I can’t.”

“You can. Talk to me.”

Yeosang swallowed, his lower lip trembling. Wooyoung did not know if it was his imagination or not, but Yeosang seemed to whimper each time he attempted to let go. “I like it when you hold me. Even if…Even if it’s not with your arms.” He inhaled unsteadily, and he looked somewhere over Wooyoung’s shoulder, where the light of the cars passing by outside streamed in. “I like it when you keep me close. I like it when you pull me into your orbit.” There was something about the rhythm in Yeosang’s words and voice that reminded Wooyoung about poetry, and he asked himself what it meant when Yeosang talked about them as if they were more than human but less than gods. “I like us like this,” He mumbled, and he seemed to be speaking as if he was underwater and reading words from the surface. His eyes were watery like he had cried for hours, but no tear seemed to spill when he blinked. Instead, they gathered on his eyelashes, and they glowed like dew. “You. Next to me. Over. Within. Above me.” Wooyoung loosened his hold, and from where he stood above him, purple seemed to bloom on Yeosang’s shoulder and arm. “I don’t know what else to say to you, Woo. I have two minds in me.”

“Two minds?”

“Yes. I am one, but think for two. Why do you think it’s always so loud in there? But now,” He sighed, and a smile flowered on his lips. “Now I feel free.” He shook his head, in seemingly complete denial at the absurdity of his own statement. “My mind is so free. There’s nothing there.” His eyelids fell closed heavily, and he sniffled quietly.

“Are you crying?”

“Yeah. Don’t touch me, though. Let me cry.” The next time he squeezed his eyes shut, two tears rolled down the hollows of his temples, and his birthmark became no less of a blossom. “They’re good tears. I’m happy.”

“I’m glad, baby. I really am.” Wooyoung caressed his cheek with the back of his fingers, and Yeosang leaned into the touch with his nose, cheek, then lips. “But I don’t know what I did. Tell me what it is so I can do it again.”

“It’s just,” Yeosang’s eyelids were shaking, and tears seemed to be streaming beneath his eyelashes and onto the bedsheets. “It’s so nice to-” And from there, he gave in. He rolled to his side and let out his first sob. “To feel like you matter.”

Wooyoung sighed and caressed Yeosang’s tears away, but they all collected on the back of his fingers, and he held them there like they were about to grow wings. “Please let me touch you.”

Yeosang shook his head. “It hurts.”

“Your chest?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let me hold you.” Yeosang crawled over to Wooyoung’s lap, leaning his head on his naked thighs, and his remaining tears spilled on his skin.

Chest tightening, Wooyoung looked up to the ceiling as if he appealed to the divinity. He held Yeosang in his arms and kissed him as if he was a gift, like he was the product of a syzygy who had fallen on Earth and right into his arms. “My twin flame,” He whispered, wiping away Yeosang’s last tear before kissing the salt stain on the bridge of his nose. Yeosang rubbed his eyes and turned around to face Wooyoung, shielding them from the sudden light as if he was the sun. “Baby, you’re my twin flame.”

When Yeosang’s eyelids twitched open, somewhere, on the other side of the world, a star fell, and the Universe felt lighter as the two over-souls descended to Earth. “And you’re mine.”

When Yeosang was little, his family used to tell him about how a series of bad things led to one good, and how every struggle in life should be a sign of good because everything was going to lead him where he were meant to be. One bad decision could lead him to his best one. The thought of being lost actually leading him to where he needed to be.

One bad person leading him to a good one.

Wooyoung was the good Yeosang was taught to wait for. He was the reason why things had been the way they had been, and why he had lost so much of his own self, only for Wooyoung to follow the shards of self tossed like breadcrumbs, and to bring them back to him. Because love was finding one’s self in the other’s self. Yeosang was still to find Wooyoung’s self within him.

Yeosang’s chest was warm with love, and the pain that came with it was one that he had grown accustomed to. The more he will wake up to Wooyoung, the more he’ll hold him, the more he’ll pamper and kiss and laugh with him, his chest will hurt less. “My twin flame.”

Wooyoung nodded, leaning in to kiss him. It was chaste and short, but heavy with two souls. “I saw so many things just now. It felt like I came back to life.”

“You’re just too in love.”

Before pulling away, Yeosang squished his cheeks and kissed his pout. “I am. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Take pride.” Wooyoung said with a smirk. He kissed Yeosang’s wet temples, and cheek, before lifting himself up from the bed, and proceeding to pick Yeosang up in his arms.

“Where are we going?”

“Bath.”

Wooyoung opened the door with his foot and used an excessive amount of strength to set Yeosang down in the bathtub without hitting him.

“Together.”

Wooyoung shook his head, and pressed down the drain stopper before turning the hot water on. Yeosang curled himself up in a ball, with his chin to his knees, and his hands over his feet. “That wasn’t a question.”

“What?”

“…Together. I didn’t ask you.”

“You want me to join you in there?”

Yeosang nodded.

“You sure?”

He wasn’t, but he nodded again anyway.

“I have bath bombs."

“Of course you do.”

Yeosang pointed to the cupboard by the mirror, and while Wooyoung went to check, he allowed himself to shamelessly stare. His hands seemed to numb with excitement at the memory of having touched Wooyoung in places he was now staring at, and the chances he’ll have in the future to touch him everywhere he didn’t.

“Which one do you want?”

“What do I have there?”

“…One with some bullshit flowers on it. One that looks like me when I see how many minutes I have until my deadline and I still have hundreds of words to write. One with stars on it. And another one that looks like something I would totally mistake for food if I was drunk. So which one do you want?”

“The one with stars on it. That one has fine glitter in it and makes your skin sparkly.”

“Of course, why have a clean bum when you can have a sparkly one.” He tossed it to Yeosang, but he failed to catch it because he was to busy cringing and laughing.

“I hate you.”

“Anyway, move.” Wooyoung flicked his wrist left and right to gesture for Yeosang to make room for him, but he changed his mind halfway through, and shoved himself in between his legs, with the back of his head against his chest. “There’s no way you’re comfortable.”

“It’s okay.” He looped his arms around Wooyoung’s neck and kissed him above his ear, watching him as he softly splashed water around with his feet and playing around with their fingers, smiling melancholically. “Tell me a myth?”

Wooyoung searched through his mind, but the scent and steam around him did not help with sounding smart. “I can’t think of any now, but I have a fun fact. In Aztec mythology, when you died of a noble cause, your soul turned into a hummingbird.”

“Why a hummingbird?”

“The sun god had the hummingbird in his name, so when people died and turned into tiny birds, they got to…join the sun up there. Also his whole hummingbird motif kinda ran in the family. This sun god’s mom became pregnant with him when a hummingbird feather touched her. Or a ball of feathers. I don’t remember. There’s a bunch of variations to this too.”

Yeosang hummed, and waited for Wooyoung to start rambling so all he could do was listen, but instead he said: “Your turn.”

“I don’t have fun stuff to share.”

“I don’t believe that. When you were in school. Or back at the club. Something funny must have happened at least once.”

“Maybe. But I wasn’t part of it. When I tell you I used to be a lot boring before I met you, I’m not joking. All I did was practice, do my make up, perform, and sleep. When I had to perform alone, sometimes I would not even talk to anyone.”

“I thought you liked the guys.”

“I love them. I really do, but unless I do their makeup, I don’t know what to talk to them about.”

“You like doing other people’s makeup?”

“Yeah.”

“And painting people’s nails?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna repaint my nails when we get out?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Wooyoung closed the tap with his foot, unpacked the bath bomb, and watched it react with the water, giving it a golden shimmery texture. He splashed around with his hands, evenly distributing the glitter around them, and when he lifted his other knee up from underwater, he was more than impressed to see it sparkle. Remembering that Yeosang had a tendency to fall asleep while bathing, Wooyoung lifted himself up and turned around to face him, leaving only their legs tangled up. Right when he was ready to tell him not to fall asleep, he saw Yeosang had already placed the folded towel under his head. They spent the next moments in silence, looking at each other through the veil of steam, and it was fair to say that they both felt like the other had something on their mind. Wooyoung was thinking about tales and myths, and which ones he felt like Yeosang would be interested in. And only God knew what Yeosang was thinking about. For the first time in a while, Wooyoung summoned all the stubbornness he could never use against Yeosang, and waited for him to break the ice. 

And yet he took advantage of this moment, and thought about the situation and place he found himself in. He would have never imagined they would share a bath, and spend such a long time in each other’s presence with no clothes on. At one point —Wooyoung failed to tell exactly when, Yeosang stopped covering himself and being hyper aware that they were both naked. Whether he was confident or comfortable or both, more than anything, Wooyoung loved seeing him in his most primal state. His skin glowed with steam and gold dust, and he seemed to consciously turn his head in the other direction from where his bite mark was, as if he wanted to keep it free from shadows. The one on his arm he held close, his arm cradled within the other.

“One day.” He said, and whatever Wooyoung was thinking about had vanished. “One day I’ll give you everything. I promise.”

Wooyoung smiled with a form of gratitude he found unfitting for the moment, but he mostly smiled at the genuineness Yeosang spoke with. “I don’t want anything else.”

“Maybe. But you deserve it. Nobody would have been this patient with me. No one would have ever fought this much for me. But one day, I promise I’ll be…different.”

“See, I don’t want you different either.”

“More confident. Less annoying.”

“When I say you’re annoying, I never mean it in a bad way. It’s always just to tease you, or I find you too cute to bear. But you’ve never really annoyed me. In fact, please be more annoying. Please test me. Please make me lose my mind more. I would love it for you to be more annoying.”

Yeosang raised his head to look at him, and to test how much he can outstare him. More seconds passed, and Wooyoung held his gaze without blinking. “…Promise?”

“Yeah, baby, I promise.”

“You won’t leave me, yeah?”

Wooyoung would lie if he said he didn’t see that coming. He knew the question had its place. In fact, he felt it on the tip of Yeosang’s tongue as he kissed him every single time. “Give me one reason why I would.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well if you’re worried about me leaving you, you must have some reason or scenario in mind.”

Yeosang shook his head, while rubbing his foot agains Wooyoung’s leg hair rather playfully. “I don’t.”

“Then we’re great. I don’t have one either.”

“I just…I know people broke up because one did not want to offer the other what they wanted and…”

“And is other couples’ problems your business?”

“No, but I’m scared. I’m scared you’ll leave me. I’m scared you’ll leave after…I don’t even know.”

“…Look, let’s say you’re a fan of a singer, or a group, and you really love their music. They’re like your top three. And one day you see the news that they’re dating, and you can’t help but feel hurt, and throw away all the merch and delete all the pictures as if they cheated on you. If the way they live their lives affects you so much, it means you never liked them for their music. It’s kind of like dating. If sex is so important to you, that the lack of it is making you break up with your partner, it means you were never there for the person. You were there to satisfy yourself in one way or another, and when you’re not the centre of the universe anymore, you get mad.”

Yeosang raised his brows, and his head up from the makeshift towel pillow, at the clarity which Wooyoung sent his message across. He loved the comparison so much, he was slightly envious he didn’t think about it first.

“Woo, you’re so good with words.”

“Would you believe me if I said I developed this talent after getting together with you?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And this is only one of the many things you’ve done to me.” Wooyoung expressed. Just to emphasise the difference between the two, Yeosang gathered water in his palm and splashed him in retaliation. Lovingly. “I love you too.” He said, wiping the water away from his eyes.

“Is this what you meant when we talked about my performance?”

“Yeah.”

“But what does it mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“When you —Wait, how do I say this…When you, um, when what you want is to hold that person’s hand and pet their hair and kiss them and, I don’t know, support them in everything?”

“It- It means you love them?”

“Yeah, but what does it mean?”

“I don’t —I’m confused. What?”

“What does it mean in terms of who you are? When you love them as a person. As someone who loves you back.”

“It means-” Wooyoung attempted, but from the way Yeosang was looking at him, then at his hand, then back at him, he understood that he placed given question in the wrong context. He lowered his head and looked towards his right. “Are you referring to…sexuality?”

Yeosang pulled his foot back and gathered within himself. Wooyoung already knew, felt, he was about to thread on thin ice if he wasn’t careful. Luckily, the water was still hot. Yeosang nodded.

“Are you trying to find out?”

A second nod.

“Have you been thinking about it for a long time?”

Yeosang shook his head. “I was more comfortable not knowing. But now I want to know.”

Wooyoung propped his elbow against the lip of the tub, and stretched his leg until his ankle reached Yeosang’s hip. He went back to the times he spent experimenting and discovering, and thought about ways for Yeosang to do so with less heartbreaks. “Think about what your goal is in a relationship.”

“My goal?”

“Yeah.”

“What if I don’t have one?”

“…You don’t see us anywhere in the future?”

“Oh, that kind of goal.” He scratched the hair behind the shell of his ear in embarrassment, and Wooyoung read too much fear in his eyes. “Um, I do, I-” He stumbled on his own words. Wooyoung outlined the shape of his hip and thigh with the side of his foot as to reassure him. “I don’t know. Just spending more time together, I guess. You watching me perform and me watching you draw.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“At my place?”

“No. Somewhere else.” He said, slightly furrowing his brows when he saw Wooyoung smiling like he did when he was about to make a joke. “Is that funny?”

“No. No, I was just smiling. It’s cute. Where is this somewhere else?”

“Europe.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Wooyoung nodded, his mind now flooded with images he’s only seen in paintings or pictures. A part of him knew Yeosang had a calling to places that shaped his own romanticism, but Wooyoung did not know if that was just his idea of Yeosang in his own perfect state, or the real one. Those two often got mixed up in his head.

“Is that how you know what you’re comfortable with being? By thinking what your goal is?”

“That’s how I do it. I thought about what kind of partner I wanted to be. And what I wanted to offer that person.” 

“And what do you want to offer?”

“…I don’t know anymore.”

“…Why not?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged rather carelessly. “You’ve changed me.” And Yeosang stood incredibly still when Wooyoung rubbed his foot against his inner thigh. “And the stuff I believed in have changed as well.”

“I’m. Sorry?”

“Don’t be. It’s not a bad thing. I’d like to think I’ve changed in a good way. I talked to a lot of people about dating. You know, me being the single dude who gives the best relationship advice. And I had people tell me what they want to give, or where they want to get. And more often than not, they were putting themselves first. I had a hard time thinking about which one was best. Putting yourself first? The other person first? The relationship as an entire first?”

“When you were dating that other person…Whom did you put first?”

“Me.”

“And second?”

“Me. Third and fourth was still me. Because I knew he put himself first too.”

Yeosang pulled one leg to his chest, and sled the other one in between Wooyoung’s thighs. His eyes were downcast, at how close he was to touching him, and when he raised his eyes back and saw the dangerous look Wooyoung shot at him, Yeosang drew his foot back. Or so he attempted, as Wooyoung cupped his heel and ankle and placed his foot on his thigh.

“I think…it should be mutual.” Yeosang said, watching how Wooyoung wrapped his hand around his foot, and started massaging the sole with his thumb, with enough pressure not to tickle. “I was that friend too. Who gave good relationship advice when I didn’t know the first thing about relationships. And I thought…I should be first. But not for me. I thought. I mean, I still do. I think everyone should be first for someone. Because when they’re not, they don’t feel like they’re worth it anymore.”

“Has that happened to you?”

Yeosang nodded. “Many times.”

_I knew it_ , Wooyoung thought to himself, with the same intensity that it probably read on his face. _I fucking knew it_ , he repeated, as if he took his first mouthful of breath after being underwater to the brink of his lungs collapsing.

“And do you still feel that way?”

On Yeosang’s face, Wooyoung saw the pain of a weak, un-rebuilt self, which has not been tended to. And with that, he still smiled. “I’d like to believe you put me first.”

Wooyoung’s entire body beat with the rhythm of his heartbeat, that the water around him formed ripples.

He shook his head and Yeosang’s smile faded. “Y-You don’t?”

Wooyoung shook his head again. “I’m putting you on a fucking pedestal.”

Yeosang tucked his lower lip in, softly biting it, and when he released it, he pursed his lips together before relaxing them. “I wanted to say that to you. I’m upset now.”

“You can still say it. I’ll take it.”

“…I don’t want this to sound bad. And I hope it won’t come across as cold. So I’m kind of scared to say it.”

“Say what?”

“…That I care more about you more than I love you. I want to protect you more than I want to make you feel loved. Is that weird? Does it make sense?”

“It does. And I get it. But you’re doing a great job at both, so don’t worry.”

“I don’t do much.”

“Not with your hands or mouth. But you do with your eyes.” Wooyoung said, and he wanted to continue, but something shifted in the way Yeosang looked at him. Something so vague yet so loud, that prompted him to hold his tongue and listen. It wasn’t just that Yeosang loved him more with his eyes than he did with any other part of him, but his eyes were louder and clearer than his voice as well. He heard, read, and saw something in his eyes, something that he deemed he was unworthy of. Yeosang looked at Wooyoung as if he was his own form of hubris, grand, yet perilous, and with that, he was ready to risk it all. “Kang Yeosang, I notice everything.”

Yeosang put the towel away, and within one second when Wooyoung had his guard down, he leaned forward, on his hands and knees, closing the space between them, until no water string would flow through, and straddled Wooyoung’s thigh.

“Why did you think I put you on a pedestal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo ngl I cried. Throughout the whole thing, almost. This took ages to write, and idk if it was because of the emotional baggage, or because I got so attached to the whole story and IT HURT TO HURT THEM YA FEEL 
> 
> ALSO PLEASE I HOPE MY 8 YEARS OF FRENCH IN SCHOOL WERE WORTH IT


	7. Somewhere In The Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is he kind to you?"

The day before, Wooyoung was met with a sight he did not know what to do with. It was not actually a day, it was 8PM and fully dark outside, and as he walked up the stairs to his apartment, he was met with San and a boy he didn’t know. He had a baby face and rosy cheeks, eyes like that of a deer’s, dark hair and glossy lips. When he saw that San recognised him, the boy sprinted down the stairs in embarrassment, pulling his hood on. San patted Wooyoung’s back and ran down the stairs to catch him, losing his slipper while he did.

Back in their apartment, Wooyoung found a new scent. Not very prominent. A woody, foresty one, with a hint of sourness, like green tea or lemon. When he walked into the kitchen, a new spray bottle lied on the table, with a post-it note taped on it reading ‘Holy Water’. Wooyoung moved on from it like he’d seen enough and jumped straight in the shower, and from there, straight into drawing. It had been three hours of him trying to get his brain to work in concordance with his hand, but as midnight approached, he began to make progress. When it was time for his power nap, he took his phone with the intention to message Yeosang, but as he did, he found two messages from his mom that he had not replied to in six hours. Not the type of message that required a response, but he still made it clear through text that he missed everyone. His finger hovered over the call button, but then he remembered that midnight was not early for everyone. He put his phone on his forehead, swung his head left and right and watched the device balance. Then he took in a deep breath and took the phone in his hand again.

‘State of my head’ by Shinedown played in his ears and his fingers were overcome with tremor as he typed in:

I’m gay.

But he deleted it. Then he wrote:

I like guys.

However, deleted that one as well, and went for:

I fell in love with a boy.

The message box was once again left empty before he typed in:

I’m in love with this guy. His name is Yeosang and we’ve been dating for a month.

The best month of my life. I want you to meet him. 

He’s kind and smart and hardworking. He’s pretty too.

He closed the messaging app, locked his phone, and turned around to bury his face into his pillow. Seconds later, when he deemed himself asleep, his phone vibrated twice.

[Chickpea  ♥ ]

00:20

I saw you typing. You better commit to it.

[Me]

00:20

How tf did u see me???

[Chickpea  ♥ ]

00:20

I wanted to send you a picture. And I saw.

[Me]

00:20

Send it.

[Chickpea  ♥ ]

00:20

What did you want to say

[Me]

00:20

Just that I love you.

And I can’t wait to see you.

[Chickpea  ♥ ]

00:21

I see.

One minute later, Yeosang sent him two pictures. One of Ari sleeping on his chest on her back with her little paws up, and another one of him with his sleepy face, a sheet mask on and his fingers shaped in a peace sign against his forehead. Wooyoung left him on read for probably the first time ever, and felt free enough to put the first picture as his lock screen wallpaper before closing his eyes.

He fell asleep with a heavy heart and woke up with an even heavier one. The house was too quiet for San to be awake, so Wooyoung put his headphones on and started off his morning, slower than usual. When he deemed his face ready for the world, he returned Yeosang’s favour from last night and sent him a selfie. When Yeosang saw the message, ‘Over the Moon’ by RX started playing in his hears, and Wooyoung smiled truthfully for the first time that morning.

Staring into the floating steam from his coffee, tapping his finger to the rhythm in his ears, Wooyoung stared at his phone, at his mom’s phone contact.

[Me]

11:53

Wake up u whore I’m lonely

OH MY GOD

IM SORRY

[Chickpea  ♥ ]

11:55

JUNG WOOYOUNG

[Me]

12:55

IM SO SORRY

THAT WAS FOR SAN I SWEAR

UR THE LAST PERSON I TEXTED

SO I ??? FORGOT TO CHANGE

[Chickpea  ♥ ]

12:55

I can’t believe this.

[Me]

12:56

IM FUCKING CRYING

I’M SO SORRY I LOVE U

PLEASE REPLY

[Chickpea  ♥ ]

12:56

I replied.

You wh*re.

[Me]

12:56

sexy.

San barged out of his room at the sound of Wooyoung’s squeaky laugh and demanded explanations. Then he joined in. With his even squeakier laugh. “You can actually hear the offence, it’s amazing.”

“It’s hilarious because he only yells at me only through text.”

San climbed over the counter and took the coffee kettle in his hands before drinking straight from there. “That is fascinating.” He said after swirling the coffee on his tongue while he contemplated. “That is such a subtle way to tell someone you love them.”

“Yelling at them through text?”

“Was he yelling, though? Or was he emphasising? We don’t use caps lock only to yell at people. We use it when we’re passionate. When we feel things. When we laugh. The things we write in capital letters draw more attention, and we are less likely to scroll past a post that was written in full caps lock.”

“I think you’re digressing from the subject.”

“I think I am digressing from the subject too. What was I talking about? I just woke up, I’ve no idea. Oh! Yelling. Yes. Love. He could have written your name with a fullstop at the end, then you would have thought he was mad. But he didn’t. He’s very strategic. He’s using the comedic effect behind it to relieve the anger, and I think that’s fascinating.”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking too much into it?”

“Not at all.” San jumped down, refilled Wooyoung’s coffee mug, then sat back on the counter. “It may sound like I’m rambling, but what I say is always valid.”

Wooyoung was ready to deny that, but that would have prompted another long, philosophical discussion he was not in the mood for. It wasn’t often when he was not entirely focused on San’s ramblings. That day was one of the rare occasions when his mind was facing fifteen directions at once. “By the way, the guy who ran away from me yesterday, was that Jongho?” He asked after a short pause.

San opened the cupboard with his foot, ducking down to get the cereal box and a large mug. “Yes. We borrowed your console. He felt like he intruded, so I guess that’s why he ran away.”

“He’s really cute. Very mature-looking.”

“Of course. How else do you think he sneaks into the club?”

“Speaking of the club, you stopped going since I started working there.”

San kissed Wooyoung’s forehead before proceeding to set up the table for breakfast. “No, I just got busy. We both wanna be there for Yeosang’s fancy performance, though. Heard it’s a big deal.”

“It is. But Jongho’s under eighteen. He shouldn’t be there.”

“He never got caught. And if he does, you’re gonna have to work your soulmate magic and put in a good word for him.”

Wooyoung shrugged his shoulders, taking his first bite out of his French toast. He would not put a good word for anyone if Yunho was there. He waited in silence for the topic to close, as that one thought in his head seemed to slow him down and bother him like a foreign body trapped in his head. “Are you in a hurry?”

“No, why?”

Wooyoung flipped his phone in his hand while staring into space, not seeming to care if he dropped it. “I need you.”

San whipped his head around. “I’m here.” And went to sit next to Wooyoung, concerned at the severity in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Wooyoung took his glasses off and tapped the end of their temple against his lips, before chewing on it. “I’ve just been thinking a lot.”

“You know, I was gonna ask why you locked yourself in your room yesterday. You mad about something?”

“No.” He bit his lip. “No, I just…I feel better. Lately I’ve been feeling a lot better."

“That’s good.”

“And I feel like less things scare me.”

San shifted his position to a more comfortable one, seeming to have an idea of where Wooyoung was going with this.

“I wanna tell my mom.” Wooyoung said. San’s eyebrows lifted.

“You mean, about…?”

“Yeah.”

San got himself into his ‘voice of reason’ mindset. “But have you come out yet?”

“No.”

“Wait, you’re gonna come out now?”

“Yeah.”

While San freaked out inwardly next to him, the image of the flower that bloomed on Yeosang’s chest materialised before Wooyoung’s eyes. A cosmos flower. White and thin, with a golden core. Fragile and in full bloom. 

“Oh, God. Okay. Right. Okay. We got this. You got this.”

Wooyoung placed his phone on the kitchen table as if it was the most frail thing, cracked his knuckles one by one, loosened his hoodie collar, cleaned his lenses, and leaned his hands on the table. “I can’t do it.”

“You looked like you had it under control until a second ago.”

“I did, huh. I’m so fucking scared. I can’t speak.”

“You don’t have to do it now.”

“I do. I’m getting ready for it. I’m not gonna be ready for it again…Fuck, I can’t even breathe.”

San stood up from the table, and returned with a bottle of water, a shot of whiskey, and a box of tissues. Wooyoung downed the shot without being given signal to do it. He put the tissue box on his lap. “I’m so scared. I wanna scream.”

“Before you call, can I ask…Why today?”

Wooyoung had the answer to that question, but not in the form of words. It was a face, and a feeling. A voice. A place. “Because I’m happy. And it feels pretty sturdy. So like…No matter what happens, I’ll go to work. I’ll do my job. I’ll kiss him like it’s the first time. I’ll watch him perform like it’s the first time. And I’ll walk him home like it's the first time. Everything’s okay. I’m okay. I got this. I got this.” He unlocked his phone, and once he had his mother’s contact on the screen, he sheepishly drew his hand back. “No, I don’t.”

San sighed and pressed the call button.

Wooyoung screamed worse than after a jump scare. “You fucking dickwad! I can’t believe you-” He whimpered the last bit of the sentence once he heard the first dial sound. He put it on speaker. “I’m gonna start crying. I have to pee so bad now. I’m scared.”

San puffed out a laugh so aggressively, that he spit on half of Wooyoung’s face. He wiped everything off much like he was used to it, and his shoulder was shaking with how hard San was laughing. He hung up. “She’s not answering, what do I do.”

“Go pee.”

“I’m not. Not until I get this done.” He hit his forehead against the table, then again, but softer. “I wanna see him. I wanna hear him. I miss him and I’m so nervous.”

San attempted to answer, but they both ended up screaming in terror when Wooyoung’s phone started ringing. “Fuck it.” He concluded, and answered the call before putting it on speaker.

“Wooyoungie,” His mom said in a singy-songy manner.

“Hiii,”

“How are you? Are you well?”

“I am. Yeah. Everything’s okay. How’s home?”

“Home’s good too. Dad’s taking your brother to his lessons now. Everyone’s fine…Has something happened?”

“N-No, why?”

“You haven’t called in a while. Is University that bad?”

“It’s not bad. But there's a lot to do. I work now too, so that’s why. Sorry.”

“Is that it?”

“Huh?”

“Here I thought it was because you finally found someone, and I don’t have to worry about you being lonely.” Wooyoung froze. “I remember when you came home you said something about finding someone before your birthday.” Wooyoung knew he needed an opening to break the news, but he did not expect it was to come this soon. He took a deep breath and unplugged his brain.

“I have.”

“Oh, you have! You have a girlfriend now?” San was massaging his shoulder and holding his hand with so much strength, to put Rose and Jack to shame. “Can I meet her soon?”

Wooyoung gulped. He fought the urge to break into a fit of aggressive laughter at how nervous he was. “He.”

“…He?”

He squeezed his own cheeks to keep himself from grinning, although his vision was already swimming in tears. “Yeah.”

“A boy?”

“Yeah.”

“…You have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Once the mandatory awkward silent moment followed, he sunk his face to San’s chest, as his soulmate rubbed his shoulders and surely mouthed prayers. Wooyoung did not need to look at him to know he was about to cry too. San had a switch when it came to crying.

“Wooyoungie…”

He wiped his tears and covered his mouth with his sleeve to muffle the sound of him clearing his throat. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know.”

Eyes downcast at his and San’d hands, he nibbled at his lip. “Yeah.”

“Since when…?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Long time?”

“Pretty long time.”

His mom let out a long, heavy sigh. “I see. Why didn’t you say anything?”

That was valid coming from his mother, considering that he has been her favourite gossip partner, and they’d spend hours on the phone talking about everything and everyone. His mom knew everything. “I was scared.”

“Why? Mom’s your best friend too. You forgot.”

“I know, I just- Sorry. I don’t know. Sorry.”

“…Are you crying?”

He removed his foggy glasses and wiped his tears again. “Yeah.”

His mother sighed again, and the next silent moment was longer than the one before. During this time, Wooyoung had to make a conscious effort to breathe, and San had not stopped caressing his hand.

“Does he treat you well?”

At this, Wooyoung took San’s hand in his and held it to the point of nearly popping his bones out of their sockets, and squeezed his eyes until the salt in them would hurt. He felt his voice shifting into sighs and sobs and the corners of his lips turning downwards. “Yeah. Really well.”

“Is he kind to you?”

With his mouth and nose now hid under his shirt, Wooyoung quietly broke down. Not the kind of breakdown he planned to have, but one he would need a longer time to recover from. He knew it was a bad idea to have this conversation before going to work. “He is. He’s great.”

“And…How did it happen?”

“I told him.” Wooyoung said with zero remorse.

“You told him?”

“Yeah. I went to him. And I told him.”

“But I thought you were shy when it comes to things like these.”

“Yeah. But not then. I just wanted him to know.” He paused. “That I like him. A lot.”

His mother made a sound as if she was shocked, or confused. Something similar to a gasp.

“And does he love you?”

“Yeah. We’re happy. He’s happy. With me. And I’m happy with him too.”

“If you’re happy, then that’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

“Do you want to meet him?”

With hesitance, she said“Yes.”

Usually Wooyoung would be the one to give short replies to his mother because he was always the one doing mental work when he was on the phone with her, but he never thought he’d see the day when the roles would reverse. By the way her voice sounded, she did not seem to be upset. She was as melodic and cheerful as her usual self, so Wooyoung liked to believe she was just getting ready to unpack everything. Or worse, she was preparing herself to tell the rest of the family.

“But maybe you still need to think about it. It’s alright to…try things out, but please think about it."

“I went to see him at 1AM because he said he was lonely. I didn’t see his face for two whole days and I thought I was gonna go mad. There’s nothing I need to think about. The time I spent with him is the only time in my life I never want back. If- If one day,” Wooyoung lifted his chin up for the tears to drain back in, then wiped his wet eyelashes. “If one day he decides to drop me, I wouldn’t regret anything. If one day he’ll find someone else, I’d want him to be as happy as he made me. I don’t have to think about anything. If you want me to stop seeing him, you’re gonna have to come here and physically remove me from him.”

Next to him, San was proud and teary-eyed, and on the other side of his phone, his mother sighed quietly with more words in her head than her mouth could bear at that moment. Wooyoung said everything he had wanted to say, besides the fifty-slide presentation on why he loves his lover and boyfriend. Wooyoung was now in a place where he would have somewhere to stay if he wasn’t welcomed home anymore.

His mother gave him a goodbye that sounded like the open ending of a novel. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t the happiest ever.

He shoved his phone in his pocket after he hung up. His chest felt empty, his head felt like it was about to start floating, and he never dreaded the thought of leaving home as much as he did then. It felt like the day San tried to force him to go to the club with him.

“I have to ask,” San began “Are you okay?”

Wooyoung nodded. “Not as bad as I thought. I’m expecting a part two.”

“How so?”

“I bet she’s thinking about that girl in school. Like ‘Well you didn’t like boys then, because you liked her’ or…some question about marriage. I don’t know. I’m expecting anything. She’s gonna find something.” He took two big sips of water, wiping the corner of his mouth, and stood up from his chair. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

San nodded. He crossed his arms to his chest and followed Wooyoung wherever he went. They’ve seen each other naked too often for it to be awkward. When Wooyoung picked up his plain black shirt, San stopped him with a smug smile on. “Put some effort into it. Feel good about yourself.”

And he would have, if his mind wouldn’t be so clouded. He went to the bathroom to wash up while San searched for an outfit that would accentuate his best features. “Can I tell you a secret?” San shouted from his room, and Wooyoung hummed in response, with the toothbrush in his mouth. “I have the sexiest soulmate.”

Wooyoung spat out and almost dropped his toothbrush. “Something that the world can see is not a secret anymore!”

San shouted encouragingly, tossing Wooyoung’s clothes on his bed. “See, I like you better like this.” And went back to the bathroom, whistling suggestively at the sight of him styling his hair. “He’s gonna love it.”

“He saw me even when I was ugly and still looked at me like I wasn’t.”

“Literally when were you ugly?”

“There were times.”

“…I’m choosing to no longer listen to you. Also, speaking of love, where’s your lube bottle?”

“…Fuck knows. In my room. Drawer. No idea.”

“I need to…borrow.”

“Just take it all. I don’t need it.”

“What do you mean you don’t need it? What are you using?”

“I’m not using.”

“I mean you two.”

“…We’re not using.”

“You’re not- What?”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“You don’t have sex?”

“Listen, I,” Wooyoung trailed off, trying to cope with the sudden wave of discomfort. “Just take it. It’s fine.”

“Oh,” San leaned his back against the wall and arched his brow. “You two are fascinating. Like you have that kind of relationship that everyone wants to know about, precisely because you’re so secretive.”

“Oh, yeah, and who wants to know about us?”

“You know, the list of individuals who pined over you or him? But now I’m kind of sad I didn’t flirt with Yeosang when I had the chance.”

“You wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Wooyoung said, making his way out the bathroom and taking his shirt off on his way to his room. 

“Considering how he brushed your confession away, neither did you.”

“…Why must you hit me where I’m weakest.”

San squeaked out a laugh from the other room, which was evil more than anything. But two seconds later he choked on his coffee and Wooyoung considered it a win.

*

Jubilee watched the newly renovated club like a mother watching her child graduate. She held her hand over her heart and sighed like a damsel, fluttering her other hand over her eyes to keep her from crying because her makeup that day was more expensive than her boots, and Yeosang had spent over forty-five minutes doing it.

She sat at the bar with a glass of wine in her hand, checking the time and smiling at the hundreds of hearts Mingi had sent her in his ‘have a great day’ message.

While most were busy rehearsing, she and the bar staff had just finished cleaning the entire first floor. She loved the new flooring nearly as much as she loved Mingi, and her eyesight became as sharp as a hawk’s when someone would spill something on it and walked away without cleaning. The guests were an exception, but she never hesitated to curse them in her mind.

It was around the time when Wooyoung would arrive, and she was already to tell him not to worry about being late. She opened the club group chat to spy on what the kids were talking about behind her back, because they had a habit of doing that, knowing that she was too busy to check her phone often. Thinking that it was around the time of year when she had to pick the weeds out, she put her phone down delicately and sipped on her wine.

She could never explain it, but Wooyoung had his own unique way of opening the door, as if his hand and the handle were magnets of the same pole, and they could never interact. Also, he was most of the time on his phone, more often than Mingi was, but a lot louder. So when he was about to approach, Jubilee knew. “I’m so sorry!”

Jubilee smiled knowingly. “It’s alright. Uni?”

“Yeah, I-” He put his bag down, panting. “We had to hand in some stuff today, and- and it took a while.”

“How did it go?”

“I passed. It was okay.”

“See? No need to worry. You are late, but it’s for a good reason.”

“Never thought I’d ever say this, but can you please not be so nice to me?”

Jubilee handed Wooyoung her glass, and he drank it as quickly as water. “Unless you step on my tail, I’ll be nice to you.” She took her empty glass back and leaned over the bar to place it in the sink. Wooyoung took his jacket off, hanging it by his shoulder, and took his glasses off until the fogginess would wear off. When he put them back on, he studied Jubilee better, now that she was a lot clearer.

“Is that a new lipstick?”

“Oh, you are the first person to notice! You just made today better.”

“I like it. Suits you.”

“I like it too, but I think it’s a bit too red for me.”

“No, you look dazzling. But you can put some here,” He said, puffing his cheek out and pointing at it. “If you want.”

“Well you’ve never been the smooth type.” Jubilee said, grabbing Wooyoung’s chin and stamping a kiss on his cheek. “Much better.”

“It’s less red now.”

“Yes, now go tell Yeosangie to wipe it off before he sets my wig on fire.” She dismissed him, slapping his butt as he walked past her, and reconsidered her life decisions when Wooyoung arched his back in hopes for another slap.

He cheerfully sprinted up the stairs, stopping by the bathroom to arrange his hair. Getting distracted by the angle he looked at himself in the mirror and being impressed by how good he looked that day wasn’t part of the plan. His eyes were still slightly red, but he could blame the smoke for that.

His initial idea was to barge into Yeosang’s changing room and surprise him with a hug and kisses (scare him, rather), but as he opened the door, he did not expect to find a literal deity in all of its blinding glory. 

Yeosang was up on his feet, with a bunch of brushes in his hand, looking at Wooyoung like he did not expect him to be there. A white, satin duster coat was resting on his shoulders, loosely tied around his hips, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and white lace-up block sandals. When he turned around to face Wooyoung, he left him almost completely blind at the amount of gold around his neck and wrists and hands. A gold choker, followed by strings of thin necklaces cascading down his chest, a ring bracelet on his right hand, three fingers adorned with gold rings on his other, and a pair of medium hoops earrings. His hair was smoothened out from his forehead and tucked behind his ears, making it look longer than it actually was.

Wooyoung’s mouth went dry. And so did his brain.

“Hi. You made it.” Yeosang said. All Wooyoung was capable of doing was to nod. “What?”

“You look…stunning.”

“Thank you. I had more time than usual, so I put a lot more effort.”

“Baby, you look so good, I can’t stop looking at you! You’re. Hot. Like, really. Look at you rocking those heels.”

“…Thank you.” Yeosang approached him timidly, but stopped on his heels —literally, when he saw the red on Wooyoung’s cheek. “…New lipstick?” He raised an offended eyebrow.

Wooyoung tried not to laugh, although he was in the mood for teasing. “Yes. She said it was a little too red.”

“Uh-huh.” Yeosang deadpanned, and returned with a makeup wipe, grabbing Wooyoung’s chin and tilting his head. His scent was stronger than before. Wooyoung could not identify it as other perfumes Yeosang’s worn before, but he knew it smelled too expensive for him. “Does she want me to set her w-”

“Wig on fire? Not really.”

“She has a man she can kiss all the time. Why does she have to kiss mine…”

“God, you’re so cute.” Wooyoung smiled, and as he did, something pricked him right over his chin. “Ow, damn, why’re your nails so sharp?”

“They’re fake.” He fluttered them in front of Wooyoung’s face. Matte white, and pointy, like real claws. “D’you like them?”

“Let’s just say that if you scratched me with those, I’d say please and thank you.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes, but it was the smirk on his lips that Wooyoung couldn’t resist. He took hold of his waist, bringing their bodies together, leaving Yeosang no room to squirm around, and kissed him arduously, and fighting an inhuman urge to push him onto the couch when his nails started scratching at the nape of his neck. Wooyoung smiled into the kiss, and made sure to let Yeosang know he was. “Thank you.” He said with a wink.

“Where’s the ‘please’?”

“Please is for when you leave marks.”

“Your list of kinks is endless…” Yeosang said matter-of-factly, folding the makeup wipe and somewhat displeased at how hard it was to remove the red.

“So you know my list of kinks. Interesting.”

“You’re exposing me to it. I didn’t choose to.”

“And you never said you minded, you asshole.”

“Anyway.” Yeosang evaded, tossing the tissue onto his already messy vanity table, then looped one arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders, softy running those cursed nails through his hair, and caressing his cheek with his other thumb. Wooyoung liked to believe it was out of love and tenderness, but he was probably just trying to get rid of the lipstick marks. “You seem happy today.”

“I am.”

“Tell me why?” Yeosang stole a kiss from him, a bit more passionate than the ones Wooyoung was used to receiving from him. He was, nonetheless, impressed and thankful.

“Three reasons.”

“That’s a lot.”

“First one is seeing you, obviously. Because I missed you. And you look so good today. And I’m so thankful for you.” 

Yeosang’s expression was slightly vague, but the look in his eyes indicated Wooyoung that he was slightly uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, but in a sense that he did not know what to say in exchange. He was thankful too, but also cringing.

“…What’s the second reason?”

Taking his hands and placing them around his waist, Wooyoung leaned in quickly and kissed Yeosang’s cheek. “I came out to my mom today.”

“That should have been the first reason.”

“It was. Until I saw you. And I realised ‘Oh, I’m happier now. Look at may ray of sunshine.’”

“…And what did she say?”

“She was…okay with it. Maybe not totally happy. But I told her that you treat me well. And that we’re in love and all that. Then-”

“Wait, you told her about us too?”

“Yeah?”

“I- I see.”

“You didn’t want me to?”

“I just- I mean, I’m okay with it. I’m glad she’s okay. I just didn’t think you’d tell your family.”

“I’m not telling anyone else. I’m too scared. I guess my mom’s okay with it as long as I’m happy and safe.”

Yeosang nodded, eyes down. Wooyoung had the impression that he wanted to take his arms back, and to prevent that, he hugged him tighter. “I was about to ask you why’re your eyes so red. Did you cry?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was pretty scared. I also. Drank a little. Sorry.”

“You always drink when you…feel too much.”

“Guilty as charged.”

With his lips curling up into a loving smile, Yeosang touched the red dot on Wooyoung’s chin, where he pricked him earlier, and breaking into a knowing grin when he bit his finger.

“What’s the third reason?”

“Well,” Wooyoung took one step away from him, untangling their arms. “I have something for you.”

“You do?”

“I do. You have to come with me to see it.”

“Okay.”

“Can I blindfold you?”

Yeosang gave him a shocked look, and Wooyoung immediately knew that the question was a direct insult to his eyeliner and falsies. “Or just…cover your eyes.”

“Before we go, I- I want you to know I’m happy. That your family’s okay with it. Even if it’s just a little. And thank you. For talking about us. And, um, if- if something goes wrong— I’m not saying it should. I mean I hope it won’t. Because it shouldn’t, but…If anything…You have me, yeah?” Yeosang said, crossing their pinkies together, and scratching Wooyoung in the process. “And I won’t leave you. Even if they say, I don’t know ‘Stop seeing him’ or whatever. I won’t. I won’t stop seeing you. Because if they do, I— Can you stop laughing and take me seriously for once?”

“I’m so sorry, it’s just so overwhelming when you speak more than two sentences at once.”

“You know what, I’ll never speak to you again.”

“Please speak, I love hearing you.”

“No, I’m upset now.” He said, taking off his heels, lowering his head and shielding his eyes as promised. Wooyoung kissed his head and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, guiding him out carefully. “Where are you taking me? Is this a prank?”

“No.”

“I don’t like being scared, you know.”

“It’s nothing scary. At least I hope it’s not.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Wooyoung laughed and opened the door to the workshop. It was currently empty and cleaner than usual, but by the warm smell of ironing clothes, Yeosang had an idea of where he was taken. “Sit still,” Wooyoung said, letting go of his shoulder and walking around the room, doing things that Yeosang could not distinguish by their sound. “I’m so fucking nervous, I wanna toss myself out the window.”

“Why?”

Yeosang heard the sound of heavy fabric falling down on the floor. Wooyoung’s nervousness started seeping through the tips of his fingers too, and he felt the need to touch and reassure. “Okay. Open your eyes.” Wooyoung said, almost shyly.

Taking his hand away and blinking to adjust to the bright white light, Yeosang raised his head, immediately struck by the crimson before him. It was a two piece costume, with a long, sheer skirt in multiple, thin layers, of red and orange, and metallic, gold appliqués around the waistband, connected to the top with chains like those from necklaces, in a gradient from red to a dark violet. The top was sleeveless with the collar little high up the neck, dark purple at the base, then one again in a gradient back to crimson towards the collar. The shoulders were lined with more gold appliqués, but not enough to be overwhelming. From the bottom of the top upwards, there were solid satin leaves secured with millinery wire to make it look as if they were rising off his chest like the tips of the flames.

“…You made this?” Yeosang inquired, quietly as to not disturb the tension around the room. Wooyoung nodded. “You really made this? On your own?”

“I wish. I got help from some fashion students. And Hongjoong hyung.”

Yeosang approached it carefully, walking around it in circles, his eyes not missing a detail. The gold dusted at the tip of the leaves on the chest, the clear transition from red to violet, and every colour on the fire colour spectrum was there. “Just when I thought I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Wooyoung paused. “It’s for you.”

Yeosang held his breath. Then slapped his hand over his nose and mouth. “No, it’s not. Tell me it’s not.”

“It is.”

“For me?”

“Who did you think it was for, mister ‘I-stopped-cursing-for-three-months-just-so-my-boss-would-let-me-dance-with-fire-again’?”

The thought of the costume before him was a repressed one in Yeosang’s head, and he did not want to come across as selfish, but the second he saw it, something in him wanted to claim it as his. He already pictured himself twirling with his fire staff, and the chiffon skirt rising and spinning with him like a fire wheel.

“How long did this take you?”

“…Less than a month. A lot, anyway.”

“Can I touch it?”

“You can try it on. That’s kind of the point.”

Yeosang took a step away from it shyly.

“You don’t like it?” Wooyoung asked. Yeosang shook his head.

“I love it. I can’t stop looking at it. This doesn’t belong on me. This belongs in a museum. On a runway. In a real play or a movie.”

“Don’t cry now.”

“I’m not, I just,” Yeosang trailed off, his mouth tense and his cheeks flushed. Wooyoung walked back over to him and Yeosang hugged him even before he had the chance to say something. “It hurts again. My whole chest.” He said, lips brushing against Wooyoung, before kissing him gently. “I love you so much.” And kissed him again.

Wooyoung giggled and brushed his nose against Yeosang’s. “When you came to talk to me that day at the café, I had it in my bag. The costume. A part of it. Whenever you talked about how much you were looking forward to performing, a part of the costume was always with me.”

“…That’s almost since you started working here.”

“The day I signed the contract, Yunho hyung told me you’d love this one. And I was like ‘Well fuck, guess I gotta lose more sleep and make it.”

Yeosang worried, even through his smile. He knew Wooyoung meant well, but he worried, no matter how much he loved to make fun of it. He broke the embrace, gave the costume one more glance, then proceeded to untie the cord from around his waist. The sleeves of his duster coat sled smoothly down his arms, and the delicacy with which he tossed it onto the chair, how his arm rose in the air and how his thin waist slightly twisted, made Wooyoung think of a late Hellenistic sculpture. Underneath he wore a short silk overall, with thin sleeves that rolled off his shoulders like feathers brushing on his skin.

“You better warn me next time. It’s hard to keep my lips off of you.”

“…Who said you have to keep them off me?”

Wooyoung pinched his waist, then seized Yeosang’s entire body in his arms when he started squirming. He kissed his lips and cheek and neck, until Yeosang’s giggle turned into a proper laugh. Then Wooyoung softly blew against the skin of Yeosang’s neck, making him laugh even more. His knees were about to give in and he pleaded Wooyoung to stop. And he would have, if he wasn’t in love with how pretty he looked when he smiled, and how much he never ceased to be surprised at how sharp his fangs were.

He was merciful enough to let him go, but only when his laugh turned into sobs, and he threatened to cut his fingers off if he ruined his makeup.

Wooyoung helped him slip into the costume, securing the top at the back with a zipper, then with a set of ribbons made out of the same fabric as the leaves on the chest.Underneath, in a little pocket, he hid the battery pack, then moved onto the skirt, and readjusting the chains connecting the two pieces.

Next came a jewellery piece that Yeosang had not seen yet. A headpiece that Hongjoong made for him, like a hair lariat made out of looping chains, meant to be worn as a headband and braided along with the hair to secure it in the back.

For the last part, and the one that made Wooyoung most nervous, was lighting the fibre optic up. He dimmed the lights of the workshop down, then placed the last battery in the pack. Yeosang’s soft gasp was enough to make him feel relieved. The lines of the skirt were outlined with a bright orange, and when he spun, it looked as magical as Wooyoung had envisioned. Yeosang gave him a glimpse of the moves he choreographed, and Wooyoung thought that his work was as close to its most perfect state, as long as the lighting was going to work in his favour. When Yeosang turned back around at him, Wooyoung lifted him up in his arms and spun them around once, as Yeosang leaned down and kissed him sweetly.

Throughout the entire process of being dressed and adorned, Yeosang remained speechless, and began too feel guilty for staring at himself for so long. He begged whoever that no one and nothing would ruin that moment, and that day. Wooyoung was still smiling at him and beaming proudly at his work, so much that once again, Yeosang felt guilty for not giving him the reaction he wanted. No, the reaction he deserved. From there, he stopped living the moment, and this was exactly what he was afraid of. Whenever him and Wooyoung were not together, he’d worry. He’d be happy that he was probably resting, but he’d also worry that he was with someone he didn’t know. But instead he was losing sleep and working overtime and making this for him instead of his coursework and-

“Yeosang,” Wooyoung said. He was now at the desk, with a bunch of colourful papers in front of him. Yeosang didn’t know when he got there, and what else happened while he was lost in thought. “Were you listening?”

Yeosang shook his head, embarrassed, and rushed over. “Can you repeat that?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? You can tell me.”

He couldn’t, in fact. Well, he could, but it was not the right moment. They were at work and Wooyoung deserved his moment, and all the praises. “I just got nervous. I’m okay. What’s this?” He took a look at all the makeup planning sheets. Ten in number. “Don’t tell me you made these too.”

“Obviously you don’t have to use them. This is just what I had in mind while I made the costume. Also do you mind if we try the body makeup on today too?”

“I don’t mind.”

Yeosang smiled. There was a special place in his heart for Wooyoung in his work mindset. When he saw him busy carrying costumes here and there, giving all of his attention at once on which ever piece he was altering, and even when he had to touch other people and dress them up, Yeosang was too busy admiring him to be jealous.

While Wooyoung was away gathering his tools and paint from Yeosang’s room, he walked around the workshop, examining the piece that currently sat on the mannequin by his desk. A cream coloured corset, still simple, and by the sketches on his desk, Wooyoung had planned to attach some pink flower placements over the nude centre insert.

The next time the door opened, Yeosang whipped his head around ready to greet Wooyoung, but was met with Heejin’s tall figure standing by the door with the most patronising smile one could bear. Yeosang held the edge of the desk as to stop himself from stepping back, and watched him carefully, like any moment he could gain the speed of a tiger and lunge at him.

“Where’s my Wooyoungie?” He asked. Yeosang hoped all the red on him was enough to cover up how his blood had drained from his face.

In the past, when those two were in the same room, Yeosang learned to keep his mouth shut as if Heejin was shutting him up for him. But it was also in the past when Yeosang thought he had nothing to fight for, besides doing a good job and making people like him.

For more than a month, Yeosang found something to keep his chin up, and someone to make him feel like he was not what the world thought of him to be.

Yeosang thought he had overcome most of that. And he did, but old habits die hard, and he was still unable to open his mouth. Not because Heejin was eyeing him like he was the lowest of the lowest, but because he felt like he was about to throw up at how appalling ‘my Wooyoungie’ sounded coming from him. 

“He’s not yours.” Yeosang answered, riding the wave of his courage, but once he reached the shore, his throat went dry with sand.

“You don’t mean to tell me he’s yours, do you?”

“I do.”

Heejin scoffed, and placed down the paper coffee cup on Wooyoung’s desk. Yeosang could not smell the alcohol coming from the cup, so he did the world a favour and tossed the drink in the trash. “Stay away from him.”

“You told me to stay away from _you_. I cannot do both now. You’re gonna have to choose.”

The back of Yeosang’s tongue kindled with anger, and his stomach fell heavy with a meteorite that left a crater right in its centre. His knees were stable and tense, and his fingers burned. “I’m not choosing shit. Stop trying.”

Heejin arched a provoked eyebrow and leaned over the table. “Interesting, so how many times did he shove his cock down your throat for you to get so brave?”

Incited with fire, Yeosang followed and leaned in too, whispering, hissing out: “As many times as I fucking begged him to.”

Heejin licked his lips, biting his lower one, tilting his head left and right like he was trying to find a weak spot in Yeosang’s eyes. “You’re playing with fire, you know. I don’t like that.”

“I don’t play with fire. I breathe it. I blow it, and I swallow it. Now fuck off.”

Heejin smiled, slammed his fists agains the table, and Yeosang drew back with a shudder. His eyes, however, remained relentless. “You’re so easy to break.” Then he turned around to leave, and at the door he was met with Wooyoung. Needless to say both him and Yeosang looked at him the same way. “I’d like to have a chat with you soon.”

Wooyoung hummed, walking past him and arranging his paint on an empty corner of the desk. “Does it have to do with work?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It does matter, because you seem to feel so entitled to use my free time however you want, when I’m very open about how much I’m struggling with my workload. So, does it have to do with work?”

“It has to do with me.”

“Then I’m afraid it’s gonna have to wait.”

Wooyoung held still, with a vague countenance, and did not smile until he heard the door slam behind him. “Now where were we…” He mumbled, putting his sketches aside and pulling out his tablet, where he had completed the drawing of Yeosang’s costume. Wooyoung watched it casually, as if he had not laid down a complete digital portrait of Yeosang’s. While he was busy staring in awe, Wooyoung took his hand. “Your nails are gonna turn black, is that okay with you?”

“…That’s me…You drew me.”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Some time ago.”

“Is that really me?”

“Yeah, sugar, it’s you.” He zoomed into his arm, going with his pinkie finger above the screen as he explained: “We’re gonna paint your entire arm ash, then blend it in like you see here. At least I hope it’s gonna work out.”

“It’s okay, I like being your makeup lab rat. And you can paint wherever, I don’t care.”

Wooyoung wrapped the costume in plastic to protect it from staining, then took his glasses off and put his rubber gloves on. Yeosang beamed, but not in his normal way. He beamed like Wooyoung was his high school crush.

“Why did you talk to him like that? Just curious.” Yeosang asked when the black pigment reached his wrist.

“…I wouldn’t be surprised if he and my ex were twins. He sounded just like him, and my fight-or-flight response got triggered. I let one of them scare me a while back. This one can’t do shit to me. People like them feed on negative emotions worse than mosquitoes feed on blood. They try to shake your ground because theirs is unstable, and when you shake theirs, they…slam doors. Case in point.” Wooyoung put the airbrush aside, letting the paint dry before moving on. “Did you say something to him?”

Yeosang said nothing. Besides him breaking his cursing ban, he didn’t remember anything. Venom gathered in the back of his tongue.

*

That day felt like a milestone in their relationship. In such a strange way, that neither of them could explain it. They have been very close from the start, but as the pieces of Yeosang’s performance were coming together, they have been inseparable. At work, and outside. At work, after Yeosang would finish with practice, he’d lock himself in his changing room and perfect the makeup for his look. He had pictures of him with the full body makeup, but he thought nothing would raise up to that standard. Wooyoung seemed to understand the fire and its origins to a level that was close to Yeosang’s, and he could not be more impressed and grateful. In the workshop, Wooyoung was following his master Hongjoong’s steps in terms of efficiency, and the other day they even competed about who can cut the organza pattern pieces the quickest. Wooyoung made Hongjoong promise not to tell Yeosang that he had stopped taking breaks. The only thing that escaped Wooyoung’s mind was that Yeosang never needed to be told that Wooyoung stopped taking breaks. He took the matter in his own hands and bought him lunch and coffee everyday.

At the end of the week meeting, their arms were wrapped around each other, and for the first time in Yeosang’s life, he made Heejin shut up as if Yeosang himself was the one shutting him up. He kissed Wooyoung’s cheek and jaw while carving curse words into Heejin’s eyes.

Everything went too smoothly and too well. The path they walked to the station seemed to be paved with rubies, and when they held hands, no one was roaming the streets.

Until Wooyoung stopped replying to Yeosang’s messages. He did what Wooyoung had done multiple times, and that was to message him something completely random, then demand a current mental health status report. At that time, he stopped doubting Wooyoung. The scenarios of him being with someone else had flown away from Yeosang’s mind. But he had never been silent for an entire day. Yeosang went to bed with his phone next to him and Ariadne in his arms. He thought a lot about his life decisions that day, as well as how slow time went by when Wooyoung wasn’t around.

Until he was awakened at the crack of dawn with a message from Wooyoung saying:

[Wooyoung]

06:27

sorry im in a literal hurry to take a nap im so fcukgin tired skjakSJA

please nvere let me make deccsidsons again im sos fckgitn tired 

decisions*

a lot of bad decisssosn were maed todaysw 

im never gong anythwheere withough u baby please i love u smsmsmsm

lmaaaoo im literwlly about to threwo up

[Me]

06:31

Where did you go…

[Wooyoung]

06:32

Lamaaaoy u awake 

[Me]

06:32

Wooyoung…

[Wooyoung]

06:32

I LVOE U SO FUCKGIFSN MSUCH

I WANNANA COME SEE U

WANANA

LMAAAOOO

i went out :) coz i was ssad anD YE I DraNK

BUT I PAITNED COZ IM A GOOD BOI 

TEL ME IMA BGODS BOI

[Me]

06:33

You’re not a good boy. You’re the complete opposite.

Now please sleep.

Also you woke me up. And you worried me.

Minutes later, Wooyoung felt bad and decided to call Yeosang to clarify. It is worth mentioning that Yeosang had already fallen asleep, and forgot to put his phone on silent mode.

Yeosang was ready to rage, but that went out the window when he heard how soft Wooyoung spoke to him. Softer than he did when he tried to reassure him. Yeosang had to walk around the room rocking his cat in his arms so he won’t fall asleep. And he was not going to take him seriously either, until he mentioned something about him being in a self destructive mood again, because he had not been doing very well on any plan. Which, to some extent, surprised Yeosang, because he was about to praise him how well he was handling everything.

And because Wooyoung was the worst at choosing a healthy coping mechanism for days like those, he ended up submitting his assignment (which was also the only positive outcome), then going out to buy drinks. He combined whiskey with vodka, which resulted in him throwing up in a trash can in the park. All that happened about two hours before he called Yeosang. And if that didn’t make his blood pressure go into red, Wooyoung started laughing at how he felt bad he didn’t drink more.

Yeosang took pride in the amount of support he offered Wooyoung, and how much liberty he offered him despite him not agreeing with every single one of his habits. But that morning, in all of his sleepiness, he felt the need to detach himself from Wooyoung as a partner and scold him like the _hyung_ he was. But Yeosang also knew himself too well, and the last thing he wanted was to shatter Wooyoung’s mood into even tinier pieces. So he snuggled to Ariadne’s warm fur to calm himself, and said “Let’s talk about this when we’re both awake.” Then stood with Wooyoung on the phone until he fell asleep. 

*

With his head blasting worse than after a proper night out, Wooyoung knocked at the door of Yunho’s office, hesitantly opening it when he was permitted to enter. That morning had been the first one in months in which he did not set an alarm, and slept until he woke up even more tired. He could have gone back to sleep, but he was mad at how his body reacted to sleep, so he decided to punish himself by…not sleeping.

On his way to work, he became the rational adult he was supposed to be.

Yunho was at his desk, before his laptop, with a pile of papers next to him, and a paper coffee cup atop of it. He had taken his makeup off, and his outfit and wig were arranged back on the mannequin. Yunho’s bare face was a rare sight, and just as glorious. “How can I help you?”

Looking down at the floor and fixing his glasses, Wooyoung stood by the door. “I was wondering if you have a moment.”

Yunho sensed the graveness in Wooyoung’s voice and looked up from his laptop. “What is this about?”

“Um,” Wooyoung thought. “Me.”

With a precise nod, Yunho closed his laptop and set it aside, gesturing for Wooyoung to have a seat before him. “Has something happened?”

Shaking his head and still unable to look up, Wooyoung searched through his mind for words. Although Yunho cared about every one of his employees and treated them like family, he sometimes reminded Wooyoung of his University teachers. The stricter ones. The ones where he could never go to for problems because he was encouraged to think independently and if ‘he truly wanted to fix his problems, he would have already found a way’. He hoped Yunho was not like that.

“So…I guess a lot is happening after all.”

Yunho leaned back on his office chair, his coffee cup in hand. By the way he grimaced after taking a sip, he could tell it had gotten cold.

“With Uni. And work.” Wooyoung tried to continue, although he was slightly annoyed with himself. The speech he had made up on his way there sounded a lot more convincing. “But like, I don’t want to give up on anything. I don’t want a break from here or Uni, I just- I don’t know what to do.”

“You have a lot on your plate now.”

“I do. Well, not in this second, but I will soon. I will have another wave of deadlines soon, and…And I love everything I do, but all this takes a lot of time and- and inspiration and patience,” He shook his head “And I feel like I’m running low on everything. And this doesn’t happen often.”

“Can I just say, you are so good at pretending that you have everything under control.”

Wooyoung smiled, remembering how San had told him the same thing.

“You want my opinion on this? My advice?”

He nodded.

“Well, as much as I want to offer good advice and be an active helper, there isn’t anything much I could advise you to do other than to better your time management.” He paused. “Is what I would say if I was your teacher. But I’m not your teacher, and we’re all here to lose our minds.” He pushed through drinking that coffee that seemed to churn his taste buds, and then cleansed them with water. “I know you said you don’t want to leave, and I respect that, but I have to say this…In case you do, you have to let me know some time in advance. Finding a costume designer isn’t easy.”

“I really don’t want to leave. In fact, I’m not even considering it an option. I’d rather lose sleep, I’d rather become insomniac all over again, than leave.”

“Now, don’t say that.”

“But I mean it.”

“No one here wants you to hurt yourself because of this.” He leaned forward again, crossing his arms on the desk. “What would be ideal for you? If you could magically make everything work in your favour, what would you do?”

“I would stop time. I would buy myself all the time I need. I would work.”

Yunho nodded, taking a fountain pen in his hand and lightly tapping it against the stack of papers. “You know, the other day I told Mingi about you. I sent him pictures of your costume, and he was very impressed. He thought you quit University just to work here, and I told him ‘No, he’s balancing everything, and he even came here while the club was renovating, despite me telling everyone not to’.” He smiled, then turned to his side to fetch something from the coat hanging from the backrest. “I shouldn’t do this, but,” And in his hand he held a set of keys. He sled them across the table. “If you need more time.”

“…What’s this?”

“The keys to the club. If you want to work overnight…You can. I don’t encourage you to. In fact, I don’t want you to do this at all. But I was a student too once, and I know what you’re going through.”

Wooyoung did not take the keys yet, but nodded with gratitude nonetheless. “Where did you study?”

“The American University of Paris. Majored in Entrepreneurship.”

“Wait, you really studied in France?”

“I have. That’s where I met Mingi. And it was hell for both of us. There was a time when I had to quit my job because there was so much to do, and Mingi would come home nearly passing out, so for about six months, all he did was work, and I did all of his coursework and homework. And for the next six moths, I worked and he did my homework. Obviously, not all the time. I would turn our lessons into songs and I would sing them to him.”

Wooyoung smiled, more than interested in hearing about Yunho’s past. He took the keys in his hands and thought about the hint Yunho dropped in what he had just said. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to drag anyone else into his mess, but to be fair, if Hongjoong could be for him what Mingi was for Yunho, maybe everything would turn to his ideal outcome.

“I want to hear more about you.” Wooyoung said.

“Gladly. But today isn’t about me. When you’ll finish with your deadlines, I’ll take you out on a date and I’ll tell you about the time I worked at my first gay bar. But until then, we have to make sure you’re okay.” Wooyoung nodded, thankful to the stars and back that he had someone like Yunho around. Who just happened to be his boss. “However, is that all?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t help but think there’s something else.”

Wooyoung stroked the keychains with his thumb. A keychain that was actually a bronze, heart shaped, locket necklace. The corner of a thin paper was poking out of it. Wooyoung looked away from it. “…Yeosang.”

Yunho gave him a knowing smile and reached over to take Wooyoung’s hand. “Trouble in paradise?”

Overwhelmed with guilt, he nodded, not baring to say anything more on the matter. He knew that the last thing both of them wanted was to become a source of stress for each other.

“I wonder if this has anything to do with Heejin coming back.”

Wooyoung’s heart began beating so fast, that it bordered into nausea. A hole dug itself into his stomach, and worries started clinging to the walls of his windpipe, not leaving much room for air. It was the thought of things that were to come that pressured him so much, kind of like a warning before a natural calamity. And this warning rung so loud, that he was too distracted to realise all the time he still had in the present.

“Come to me if there’a anything. I might have a plan. But just…not yet.” Yunho said when Wooyoung forgot to respond. He sensed the worry and the heaviness of his shoulders and caressed his hand. “Don’t forget that things are still okay now. Use all the time you are given.”

With a nod and a squeeze of Yunho’s hand, Wooyoung stood up, with only half a quarter of his life sorted out, and the others a complete hazard. “Thank you.”

“No need. I haven’t done much.”

“You gave me time.” He looked towards the door, thinking that was his queue to leave, but he turned his head back around. He wanted to avoid leaving on such a cold note. “But how have you been, though? We haven’t talked that much lately.”

“Oh, I’ve been very sad actually. Thank you for asking.”

“What happened?”

Yunho pursed his lips, unlocking his phone just to check for a message from Mingi, but settled for looking at the lock screen, which was a picture of them at a Harry Potter themed park. “Mingi’s on a business trip this week, and I’ve been very lonely. His side of the bed is cold and I am very upset about it. Other than that, everything’s fine…perfectly fine.”

“When is he coming back?”

“…Saturday? I think.”

“We’ll keep you busy until then.”

“Yes. I have so many children I never asked for.” He sighed. “Thank you.”

“It’s cool. You look after everyone. Figured someone should look after you.”

Yunho tapped his hand against his chest as a form of gratitude. “You stay safe. Keep the club safe. I’ll be the last one to leave, and don’t you dare not lock all the doors.”

“I got this. I won’t let you down.”

Yunho sighed. He stood up from his seat and gave Wooyoung a hug. Even without his heels, he was still taller than it should be legal, and his arms wrapped around him alone made him feel like he was about to be swallowed up. “I know. I just worry.”

Once he closed the door behind him when he left the office, his hand lingered on the door handle, and the keys rung like bells in his hand.

He did not need to look to his right to know who was coming up the stairs. He knew that pacing better than anyone else’s. “Hey.”

Yeosang dabbed the towel to his jaw and temples, and his hair was sticking to his forehead. The tips of his fingers were redder than it was normal, and his entire foot was wrapped up. He just walked out of rehearsals, and he wasn’t smiling like he normally did when they saw each other. They walked together to Yeosang’s changing room and caught up for the first time that day. “Why did Yunho hyung give you the keys to the club?” Was the first thing he said. Wooyoung was never going to get used to his bluntness.

“I’m gonna be working overtime.”

Yeosang did not spare him another glance and went in to shower. He spent less time in there than he usually did, and during the time Wooyoung had alone, an unwelcome thought seeped into his mind. A thought that soon became a headache. The way Yeosang looked at him and the cold treatment he gave him, sent him to their early days together when they failed to understand each other to such a great extent, that he even considered ignoring his existence. He stared at the bathroom door and he remembered them bathing together and how genuine it felt. The thought of them having to start all over because of a person who had nothing to do with their relationship brought Wooyoung’s heart down even lower.

He buried his eyes and forehead into his palm, and did not move from that position when Yeosang walked out. Not that he was interested in his partner’s condition either.

“What do you mean 'overtime'?” Yeosang’s tone was that of a person who was a stranger to empathy. And quite the opposite of what Wooyoung needed.

“I don’t have time for literally anything. I have a painting to finish, a chapter to summarise for art history, whatever the fuck I need to do for my photography class, and like four costumes to finish.” Wooyoung looked at Yeosang like he was about to enumerate him on the list too, but seeing his face for the first time every day was life changing for him. Yeosang was a source of negativity to him. Until he saw him and held him. Then he remembered what an idiot he was for thinking that.

“You say you have all that stuff to do, yet you’re here talking to me.”

Wooyoung grasped the keyset in his hands, as he felt his headache extending to his forehead and around his ears. He looked Yeosang’s way insistently, hoping he’d catch a glimpse and redeem himself, but he was busy organising his makeup. When Wooyoung would not say anything for a long time, Yeosang never failed to check on him. Until that day.

“I’m sorry I needed some reassurance from you.” Wooyoung expressed, standing up and slamming the door behind him.

He went back to his workshop, ruffled Hongjoong’s hair as he walked past their desk, and put on his best smile.

The costumes he was working on were for a burlesque ballet performance based on ‘Beauty and the Beast’ for two female dancers. On his way to work, he listened to the song that was composed for the number, like he did almost every morning. Then played the song aloud on the workshop’s speakers for both of them to meditate on it. He peeked at Hongjoong’s costume for the character of the beast. A short dress out of animal printed Burnout Georgette fabric, which would go over a leotard, a short, faux fur-coated mantle, only to go around the shoulders and little over the arm. “Weren’t you working on your ‘Untold’ series, like, yesterday?”

“Just last week. I finished one, but I just left it home. Took new measurements yesterday, went to buy the fabrics, and here I am.”

“Man, I wish I worked as efficiently as you do.”

“You do. Stop putting yourself down. You’re balancing your life just fine, and we’re here for you.”

Hongjoong’s words were as heartwarming as ever, and it made Wooyoung’s heart tickle. He sometimes found himself looking at Hongjoong and always being impressed at how pretty they were, and at how they were the embodiment of inner beauty reflecting on the outside. For some time now, Wooyoung’s had the idea of drawing them while they work, because they sat still in the same position for hours if they had to.

“How’s Seonghwa hyung?”

Wooyoung liked to believe that the way the corners of Hongjoong’s lips twitching was not because the topic didn’t make them smile, but they did nonetheless. There was a tension going on between the couple, and they both did very well at concealing it. “He’s okay. I think he’s rehearsing.”

“And are you two okay?”

They sighed. “Like a six or a seven on the ‘okay’ spectrum. I’m waiting for this situation we have going on to reach a conclusion and then I’ll tell you.”

Wooyoung nodded appreciatively and went to his desk, cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck, letting out one last sigh before starting off.

The door opened quietly, and Wooyoung did not need to raise his head up to know it was Yeosang. He placed a small paper bag on Hongjoong’s desk, which they gave him a side hug for, then sheepishly walked to Wooyoung’s work table and placed another bag. In his hand he held a paper cup, and it may have been the lack of Wooyoung’s vigour to live, but he could smell the whiskey from there. “I’m sorry,” Yeosang said, setting the cup down.

Wooyoung nodded, too seemingly focused on his lace placement. Yeosang sat down next to him and watched him work in hopes that he’ll say something when he decided to acknowledge his presence. The heels of Wooyoung’s hands were stained with yellow and blue paint, and there was some green on the tips of his fingers. Once when he wore a short sleeve shirt, he noticed that his elbows had been stained too. He didn’t want to know how the paint got there, but Yeosang recalled being weirdly happy at seeing all those colours on him. “Can we talk?”

Wooyoung turned the mannequin around to place his next lace appliqué, with a needle in his mouth, stabilising the placement before moving on with sewing it. “So now you want to talk.”

“Um, guys,” Hongjoong said, waving their headphones around. “I’ll put these on so you can talk. I promise I won’t eavesdrop.” And then turned the music so loud that even the other two could hear ‘Cell Block Tango’ playing.

“I had a bad day. Rehearsals weren’t as smooth and-”

“And you decided to take it out on me.” 

“No, I-”

“You think you’re the only one who has bad days.”

“No.”

“How is it that when I have a shit time I come to you for a hug, and when you have a shit time you push me away?”

“I don’t always do that.”

Leaving his question unanswered, Wooyoung bit his tongue. He stopped whatever he was doing, realising that he had messed up. He took the needles away and started over. Instead, he took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, put them back on and continued hand sewing. During this time, Yeosang tried to put himself in his shoes, but his anxiety stopped him from empathising. Wooyoung had always replied to his messages at the most impossible hours of the night, and when he didn’t, Yeosang felt somewhat relieved that he was sleeping, but then he’d find a picture of the mess in Wooyoung’s room with whatever he was drawing, apologising for the late reply.

He had seen him sleep only once. And even then, as much as Yeosang liked to believe he was sleeping peacefully, Wooyoung had a habit of twitching violently in his sleep. And Yeosang, being a light sleeper, woke up in horror thinking that something had happened to him. The next time he woke up that night, Wooyoung was up, sitting by the side of the bed, panting. To that day, Yeosang didn’t know why he didn’t say or do anything.

“I’m staying with you-”

“No.”

“But-”

“I’m done arguing.”

Karma and Wooyoung were childhood friends who grew up to be archenemies. Sometimes it took years for it to come back to him, and sometimes it happened instantly. As it did then, for example. When he had lost control of the sympathy in his voice, he pricked his thumb so bad that the sting travelled up to his shoulder. He pulled away, hissing and clutching his hand to his chest, and Yeosang was already up to bring him bandaids. Strings of curse words raced past his lips as if he was preaching, and on the fifteenth time he cursed the devil, Yeosang started chuckling as he wiped away the bead of blood and wrapped a bandaid around it. But quieted himself when he saw that Wooyoung was in no mood to smile. “Are you mad at me?” Yeosang asked.

“No.”

“Then say you love me.”

“Yeosang…”

“Just say I love you and I’ll go.”

“I’ll say I love you when I’ll feel like it. I won’t say that just to get rid of you. Why won’t you say it instead?” Yeosang’s lips twitched inwards as if to further seal themselves. “See, you don’t feel like saying it either.”

Wooyoung felt his hand held with a strength that it was not held before. Not a strength out of longing or love, but out of anger, as if Yeosang was trying to gesture him to stop before things got worse. “I’m staying with you. I don’t care what you say.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you irritate me every time you open your mouth.”

“You’re an asshole and I hate you.”

“And you’re the absolute worst.”

They outstared each other, Yeosang’s fingers enchained tightly around Wooyoung’s hand, and Wooyoung’s muscles contracted with anger. The daggers they sent each other became spears and needles, and their eyes stung more with each stab. The petty part of Wooyoung wanted to push Yeosang to the brink of anger, and fuel the fire that he was. There was something about him being mad that he found endearing. So endearing, that he broke into a smile. After him, Yeosang smiled too, and finally released Wooyoung’s hand. He did not expect his wrist to feel sore after being let go of. They locked fingers, and Wooyoung kissed Yeosang’s hand before pulling him into a tight hug. “The amount of love I have for you is unreal.”

Yeosang snaked his arms around Wooyoung’s neck and hugged him with the intention of restricting his breathing and releasing all his anger and love. “I know.”

Over his shoulder, Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Say I love you.”

“Shut up, I was ready to bash your head.” 

“And I wanted to trip you on your way out. Now say I love you.” He squished Yeosang’s cheeks so much that he distorted the lower half of his face, then played with them like they were modelling clay. “Say it you coward.”

“I hate you with a passion.”

“Oh?” Wooyoung pulled him closer, one hand on his chin and the other on his waist. “How much passion?” He asked, drawing closer as to kiss Yeosang, but instead he swiped the tip of his tongue against his lips.

Yeosang crashed their lips together, making Wooyoung almost take his hands away to secure his balance. He took Wooyoung by the collar and mercilessly pulled him towards him, tilting his head the other way to kiss him again. “This much.”

Wooyoung clicked his tongue. “That wasn’t very much.”

“There’s a special place for you in hell.”

“I know. I’ll see you there.”

With a tired groan, Yeosang cupped Wooyoung’s cheeks and kissed him again and again, softly yet with a dash of anger. “I love you.” Then kissed his palms one more time before standing up. “I’ll go get ready. I’m glad we talked.”

On their way to the door, Wooyoung tapped Hongjoong’s shoulder to tell them to take their headphones off. They did, but just one, but was too emotional within their own selves and too enraptured in Cynthia Erivo singing ‘I’m Here’ to be bothered.

“If you run into…him…Let me know and I’ll come running. Or come here.”

Taking in a deep breath as he considered, the sides of Yeosang’s tongue stung as if the curse words whipped his mouth. Bad things and bad people rose in the back of his eyelids, but once he opened his eyes, he was met with the sun that was Wooyoung.

And he shook his head. “I got this.”

Wooyoung smiled proudly. “I wanna be there when you kick his ass.” And kissed him softly. And smiled when he noticed Yeosang wasn’t in the mood for one single kiss. He wrinkled Wooyoung’s shirt in his hands, luring him closer, and kissed him again, for longer. “I’ll see you tonight.”

*

By the time Wooyoung came back up from locking every door up, Yeosang had already built himself a fort out of cushions and blankets in the corner of the workshop, with the snack bag and water bottles next to him. He was reading his ‘Greek Myths and Tales’ book, which he was not ashamed to hide anymore.

Wooyoung was never going to forget the face of betrayal Hongjoong shot his way when they found out he was going to work without them. They expressed their frustration in the cutest way, and were off. And so was everyone else.

By 1AM, classical music played in the overhead speakers, Wooyoung had finished with the tutu, and Yeosang was perched up on his desk, taking pictures of him, and reading him myths.

By 3AM, Yeosang had the late realisation that they had the club all to themselves. He rushed downstairs, walked through the empty tables, pretended to ice skate on the bar’s marble countertop, and did handstands and splits on the dancing pole like he had made gravity reverse.

By 5AM, they were both in the practice room, Yeosang was dancing pretty much anything from his silly moves to actual bits from choreographies he remembered. Wooyoung watched him, marvelled, and filmed him, and he had fallen in love at least one time per second. While Yeosang did inversions on his dancing pole, he smiled at him with his head upside down, Wooyoung walked over and kissed him like that, then collected him in his arms until Yeosang wrapped both his arms and legs around him, and kissed him again.

There was nothing Wooyoung had to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..........Coming out scenes, no matter if you write them or read about them  
> they hit differently  
> i had to take 5
> 
> ___
> 
> i have a lot of love for these two im sad.


	8. Titanium Blossoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Burn him?"  
> "Please."

The door to Yeosang’s room was closed, and the corners of his bed were adorned with papers and sketchbooks, drawing pens and brushes that Ariadne had chewed on earlier.

The vanity in the room was finally clean of everything that did not belong there, and only after then Yeosang realised how many unopened bottles of cologne and perfumes and eau de toilettehe owned, so he gave two of each to Wooyoung. They sat at the table, and while Yeosang was experimenting with makeup, Wooyoung was gaping at how sparkly his lip glosses and highlights were, and how his face was glowing nonetheless.

It had been a full day of Wooyoung walking around the room and reading Yeosang paragraphs from ‘Art for Eternity: Egypt, Mesopotamia, and Crete’ and ‘The Realm of Beauty: Fourth Century, Greece and the Greek World’, and he realised that his mind registered information differently when he was reading to someone who was interested. Yeosang asked him questions, and, by answering, Wooyoung realised he was not as stupid as he thought. As he wrote, Yeosang went out to take Ari for a walk because she had been meowing at the door for minutes on end.

And now here they were, taking in each other’s presence like they were the only two individual left on Earth. Ari was asleep in the bathroom sink to emphasise her pettiness when Yeosang refused to give her another bath, and the world around him seemed to have taken a break.

Besides the inside of Yeosang’s head. That could never take a break. His chin was now in Wooyoung’s hold as he gently removed the makeup, and Yeosang peeked at him insistently until he caught on. But Wooyoung didn’t. After he prepped his face once again for his second look, Wooyoung took the brush from him, opened a makeup tutorial on YouTube, aligned the makeup in usage order, and off he went. Yeosang’s heart swelled with love and even kicked his legs in the air out of excitement, and instead of watching the video in front of him, he smiled at Wooyoung’s knitted eyebrows, and at how focused he was. Yeosang thought of that moment as their relationship in its most perfect state. And Wooyoung in his most perfect state too, with his loose shirt and hair tied back in a tiny ponytail, nails painted in a black-to-turquoise gradient, and bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep. He tossed his head back, laughing, when Wooyoung would slap the makeup sponge against his face, and three times in one minute, Yeosang urged him to be more gentle.

“You have a pimple here.” Wooyoung said, poking Yeosang’s jaw, and the latter slapped it away, making an offended noise.

“Shut up. Don’t point it out.”

“It’s pointing itself to my eyes because I can’t cover it.”

“Then move on. It’s probably the lighting.”

Wooyoung refused constructive criticism until he was done, but by the looks Yeosang stole when Wooyoung was choosing his colour, he was more than impressed with his patience.

“You remember I said we have to talk, right?”

“When I was drunk?”

“…Uh-huh.”

Wooyoung hesitated. “Okay. Shoot.”

“But I don’t know how to start.”

“What was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“You said you’ll stop going places without me, and that you made a bunch of bad decisions.”

“Fuck yeah, I did.”

“That’s nothing to be proud of.”

“I’m not. I lost control.”

“Again.”

“Yeah, again.”

“I wanna talk about this. But you dismiss me.”

Wooyoung smiled guiltily. “Sorry.”

“You did it again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Wooyoung moved onto the highlighter, outwardly more focused on what he was doing than the conversation they were having.

“Can I ask why you’re so hesitant?” Yeosang asked.

“You know, you have things you don’t wanna talk about. I have things I don’t wanna talk about.”

“So this is what it is? You being petty because I’m not ready to tell you, so you’re not gonna tell me anything either?”

“No. Just like you, in order to talk about it I have to go back to some pretty nasty times. And I try not to.” 

“I didn’t think you did. —Wait, that sounded really bad. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’ve just always had the impression that your life was pretty chill. I just made it sound ignorant and bad and I’m sorry.”

“Oh, compared to what others went through, yeah, totally. But…let’s just say I didn’t move out from home to make my parents proud. I’ve done things I want to take back. The worst thing— which you can probably tell, is that I chose alcohol as my sleeping pill.”

“I didn’t know you did that. And…you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“It’s okay, that was just the surface. Things can only go one way from there.”

Yeosang nodded, finding himself at fault for bringing it up. Although it came as no news to anyone that he was probably feeling bad for both of them. Wooyoung was bobbing his head to the music of the video, and his little ponytail was bouncing joyfully.

“I’m not trying to be invasive, you know.”

“I know.” Wooyoung smiled.

“But we talked about taking care of each other. And you took care of me this whole time. I just want to do the same. No other reason.”

“I know.”

“…Okay.”

Wooyoung paused the video and spun the angled brush around his fingers as if it was a pencil. He leaned back on his chair and crossed both his arms and legs. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. Just…I’m sure there must be a reason why you messaged me that.”

“Why do you think?”

“Woo, I can’t see what’s in your head.”

“Sure you can.”

Yeosang followed, and leaned back too. The metallic blue-to-purple eyeshadow made his eyes look galactic, and each time he blinked, there were more stars.

“Because…You needed company?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “Because you’re strict. You can be merciless when you want. Guess I needed a reality check. You’ve been pretty laid back with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way you talk to others. And the way you talk to me. It’s different."

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Yeosang leaned forward, pressed play, and picked the blending brush up, handing it to Wooyoung. “Is that an off limits question?” He asked, and Yeosang shrugged his shoulders.

They both fell incredibly still when it came to Wooyoung curling Yeosang’s eyelashes, but just to be sure no one would jump, Wooyoung grabbed his cheeks and forced him still. When he was done, he exhaled triumphantly. Yeosang, not so much.

“It’s ‘cause I’m not scared to lose them.” Yeosang expressed in the end, picking and scratching at his nails to peel the polish off. Wooyoung had to push his hand away. “So I figured I should be nice to you.”

Wooyoung puffed out an almost mocking laugh. “Did you really think that if you called me out I’d break up with you or some shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, I can take a lot, you know. That’s what friends are for. To go through shit together, and stop you from getting worse.”

“I thought that’s what San did.”

“He does his best, bless him, but he’s too kind. He’s like ‘You shouldn’t do this’ and I give him the puppy eyes and he’s like ‘Okay fine’.”

“That won’t work with me, sorry.”

“That’s why I wanna know what you think. Yes, I get angry, and yes I’m petty, and YES I’m stubborn, but it’s okay to tell me I’m stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Man, I knew you wouldn’t hesitate.”

“So you wanted me to be there with you to knock some sense into you.”

“Yes.” 

“And what do I get?”

“What?”

“…I’m not doing that for free.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re doin’ it ‘cause you love me.”

“…So what do I get?”

“What do you want?” 

“I’ll keep it an open favour in case something occurs.” Yeosang chuckled, breaking out of his seriousness. “But yeah, I’ll help. On one condition, and I’m not joking.” Wooyoung dusted the excess powder off the brush, but put it down at the threatening tone in Yeosang’s voice. “If I ever see you drunk, and when I try to get you out of there…If you grope me or yell at me or push me or draw attention to me,” Yeosang’s lower lip trembled, and the shimmer around its eyes had lost its glow. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving and I’m erasing you.”

Wooyoung dropped everything, and, with no hesitation, enveloped Yeosang in the tightest hug. “I’ve never been violent with anyone. Ever. In my life. And I needed to have completely lost my mind to do any of that to you.”

Yeosang rubbed his back gently, resting his cheek on his shoulder. “I know, I just…had to tell you.” He mumbled, and Wooyoung nodded understandingly.

“Your heart’s racing. Are you okay?”

Yeosang nodded his head.

“I promise. I swear on whatever you want me to. I would never lay my hands on you when you deny me that. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“No, but, for real, if I’ll see you crossing your arms or frowning at me, I’ll start crying.”

“Why?”

“Everything makes me cry when I’m drunk. When I went out that night, I cried almost constantly.”

“Is there a reason?”

“Fuck knows. The reason changes with every breakdown, and I had like fifty-three. I also laugh a lot. And when I get tired I act like a baby.”

“Yeah. I saw.”

Wooyoung followed Yeosang to the bathroom mirror, where he prepped his stuff to remove his makeup. He noticed how there were times when Yeosang would stand in front of the mirror, but never look at himself, as if he could not bear what he saw. Wooyoung wished he was his mirror instead. One that would reflect what he should see, not what he wanted to see. He took Ariadne in his arms when Yeosang needed to use the sink, as she made her way around his shoulders.

“He’d prude shame me when I would cover up, and slut shame me when I wore something that was too revealing. And shame me for never having had sex before, with every single occasion. Every time he could. He’d say something. Something bad. Something that would make me feel so low.”

Wooyoung took every word in as if it was forced down his throat, and the floor beneath him trembled. He wished he had sat down. He wished they were in bed so he could hug and kiss comfort into his skin. Until then, Wooyoung had connected several points, although he hoped none of that would be true. He also taught himself how to deal if any of that was true.

The next time he looked at Yeosang, his cheeks were stained with colour, and the way he looked at himself was glacial. However, with no hatred. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” Wooyoung said, apologetically. A part of him wanted to erase the subject, as if that would make everything in Yeosang’s head vanish as well.

“It’s okay. This was just the surface. It can only go one way from here.”

Wooyoung knew, and this was exactly what he was scared of most.

He had been called names in the past, and people picked on the way he dressed too. But what he did in retaliation was to emphasise what people called him, use it to his advantage, and pretend to take pride in it, until people left him alone. Because they realised he didn’t care. If people called him a whore, he’d play around with it until he made it sound like a compliment.

When he saw Yeosang looking down at the pile of used cotton discs, with his hands rested against the sink’s lip, he made sure Ari was safe around his shoulders and went on to remove Yeosang’s makeup, like he did every time at work. “Thank you for telling me.” Wooyoung said. Yeosang replied with a nod. “And I hope you know you’re none of that.” He poked Yeosang’s nose and he broke into a smile. “You’re not prude for those reasons, you just have a lot of self respect. As you should. And being confident in your own body and wearing whatever makes you feel good does not make you a slut. You know that, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Yeosang smiled more confidently than before, raising his hand to gently scratch Ariadne’s chin. “You should see the way she looks at you.”

“Ari?”

“Yeah.”

“How does she look at me?”

Yeosang stroked Ari’s little head with the back of his fingers, his eyes smiling wider than his lips at how softly she was purring. “Like she wishes she could hear you.”

“Shut up, that’s so heartbreaking.”

“It’s okay. She’s a happy kitty.” He cupped her cheeks, meowing sleepily as Yeosang kissed her head.

“Do I get kisses too?”

“After I take a shower. Get out.”

“D-Do you think you could be a little nicer?”

“…Please get out?”

Still unhappy with the response, Wooyoung walked away, leaving the door open behind him. “You use the softest tone you have, talk to him like he’s a baby, and he still treats you like you’re his subordinate. Ari, do you see this? Can you believe this bullshit?”

Yeosang laughed to himself, slipping off his clothes and stepping into the shower. He heard Wooyoung talking to Ari in his high pitched voice, and then her squeaky toy being tossed around, so he assumed he was playing fetch with her.

The other day when Wooyoung left his place, he had purposely left a change of his clothes behind, which Yeosang was ready to message him about. When he took them to put them aside, Yeosang noticed Wooyoung had sprayed his perfume on them before leaving. And maybe that was the first time he ever felt like bragging, like sharing the moment with someone else but his cat. When Ari had walked into the room, she was also searching for the new smell, and Yeosang’s heart shattered when she started meowing around the house in search for him. He rubbed the perfume on his wrist before going to bed. He had kept these things a secret, even if he knew Wooyoung would be more than happy to find out. And even after Wooyoung told him the things he does on his own, like how he can’t draw without thinking of him, and how he still had the impression his pillow still smelled like him, Yeosang held back. He also found himself sleeping with Wooyoung’s pillow to his chest, then in between his legs when his thoughts would get the best of him. He became unable to take baths without thinking about how they laid in there together, all over each other, and doing everything from touching to kissing to scrubbing and rinsing. He felt liberated to have them both stand before each other warm and bare.

Once he stepped out the shower, he found Wooyoung in his room, with his shirt off, lying on his bed with his sweatpants low enough to show his V-line, and their drawstrings untied. His legs were slightly spread and he had taken off his glasses. The black string of his necklace did nothing but to draw attention to his chest. He was scrolling through his phone, but had put it aside when he saw Yeosang. Leaving his pants to barely hang by his hipbones, he stood up, and kissed Yeosang’s cheek as he walked past him. With a short sigh, Yeosang grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist and pulled him into a kiss, a lot more passionate than they had both expected. Before pulling away, Wooyoung bit his lip, with a smug smile on when Yeosang whimpered. “Worth the wait.” He said, and headed to have his turn to shower.

Yeosang patted the area around his heart to make sure it was still there, finally exhaling a hot breath that was about to grow into a moan. He tossed his bathrobe onto the floor and with his foot, he opened the drawer where he kept his undergarments, his eyes switching back and forth between two pairs of laced briefs, one black pair, and the other red. He picked up his lace thongs, weighing and gauging, but ended up putting them back, and going for the regular ones.

He tossed the clothes lying on the floor into a laundry pile on his vanity chair, and shoved the boots further underneath the table. He’s lost count of the many times he tripped against them. His joints grew weaker at the sound of Wooyoung’s bare soles slapping against the tiled floor, although the bathroom was a room away. He distracted himself with cleaning up his vanity, clearing it of the four cereal bowls that have gathered in the past three days, and receipts that he never needed. Next was the wardrobe, and all the clothes hanging from the doors. He had no room for some of them so he tossed them in the laundry pile as an excuse for the lack of space. He took the silk tie, rolled it up, and was about to place it in its designated drawer, but stopped, and found himself fondling the fabric as if he wanted to rub the red onto his skin. He wrapped it around his wrist, realising in time what he had intended to do, and tossed it where it belonged. Shaking his head out of places it was not meant to wander, he picked Wooyoung’s jeans up and hung them by the backrest of his chair. As he picked his shirt up, with the purpose of putting it anywhere but the floor, he caught a glimpse of Wooyoung’s cologne. One that he forgot to ask so many times what it was. He scrunched the shirt up in his hands and brought it up to his face, and his back hit against the wall as he inhaled. Filling his lungs and chest and being with his scent, he dropped down to the floor, and embraced it possessively. It was most prominent around the collar, and Yeosang, caught in his trance, bit the hem and lightly tugged it, as one would nibble on someone’s skin. The good side of him was pleading to let go and wait until the water would stop running, but his palms were crimson with ember and he was in the centre of the fire ring. He felt his fever in his eyelids, and his ardor in his thighs. In a spark of unconsciousness, he kicked his sweats off, holding Wooyoung’s shirt to his chest, with the collar rubbing against his clavicle, and the hem reaching in between his thighs. He pulled it lower, as to cover the wholeness of his shame with it. He held onto the good side of him for dear life, forgetting that his hands were those of fire, and everything that went against him was going to burn. He stroked the hem of the shirt against his half erected member, whimpering with each inhale, like Wooyoung’s scent took the form of his hands and tongue; and within the bliss of privacy he had in his room, his hips began rolling to the rhythm. One which he remembered Wooyoung stroking them together with. Yeosang shuddered at the memory, and with a part of Wooyoung’s shirt within his teeth, he moaned, and the roughness of the shirt and that of his briefs together did not seem to please him. With his tongue igniting in his mouth and his whimpers kindling sparks in his neck, he shoved Wooyoung’s shirt within his briefs and rutted against it roughly, but patiently. He cracked his eyes open, his vision hazy, and he never thought his room has ever been that red. He didn’t remember the walls being so red. And the mirror. The mirror definitely wasn’t red. The faster he went, and the more his muscles burnt with the speed of his climax, the red before his eyes turned to wine. He brought his thighs together and groaned quietly as he came, all over himself and the shirt he was so close to ripping apart. The red began to fade along with the dusk of his afterglow, and his eyes filled with tears of anger, self loathing, and embarrassment. None of those, however, were for himself. He pulled the cloth out, hissing at the sudden friction, and looked at the strings of sperm sliding in the yellow light. “Woo…young…” He whispered, tracing the wet lines with his fingers, and once he reached the bead where it poured to, he rubbed the area in circles. “Wooyoung,”. Lying the shirt down on the floor before him, he crawled over it, and leaned his finger against the last remaining pearlescent drops, and pressed them down until they blended dark with the fabric. “Wooyoung,” he sighed, and dragged his fingers across one last time before placing them in his mouth. There wasn’t much of a taste, not enough for him to like or dislike it, but there was a hint of saltiness there. He gathered his legs to his chest, head tossed back against the wall, panting, and instinctively reached to wipe his tears. Only that there were none. His need to cry and drown into self hatred have also vanished. But most importantly, he did not feel embarrassed. As disheveled as he was, as warm and weak as he felt.

He was not embarrassed.

He was made of sun and magma, and he was not ashamed.

Now that Wooyoung’s scent was wearing off, the air around him began to feel unbreathable, and he was powerless with a form of post-coital exhaustion that he’s only felt the first time Wooyoung touched him. He had in mind to move, hide some evidence, but the systems in his body had all mixed up their functions. Eventually, he patted around the floor to find the black shirt, as if he was weak of sight, and as he leaned forward to toss it into the pile, he was met with Wooyoung’s figure standing by the door. A little surprised, more than anything. Yeosang dropped his arm, and resumed his position, his legs falling limp, and the cloth in his hands. “Baby,” Wooyoung called, thinking nothing about how Yeosang drew little circles around those faded lines of white. He reached to touch his face and to caress his lips with his thumb, but Yeosang opened his mouth and took the digit in without Wooyoung having to imply anything. He made a loud and pleasing sucking sound before releasing it, and watched the string of saliva with utmost awe.

“You don’t need that.” Yeosang mumbled, pointing at the towel from around Wooyoung’s waist.

He smirked. “I guess I don’t.” And tossed it away. He crawled in between Yeosang’s legs, lifting his knee up by the back of it, and licked a spot on his inner thigh. Yeosang clenched his fists, both in excitement and as to brace himself. Wooyoung took a generous amount of flesh between his teeth and compressed it more the harder he sucked on it. Yeosang took a hold of Wooyoung’s hair and whimpered, in pain or pleasure, not even he knew. He swallowed, his joints slightly trembling, and watched Wooyoung treat him with utmost care when he thought he was going to do the opposite. He gestured for him to lift his shirt, and although Yeosang refused to for obvious reasons, he looked away and obeyed. Although, he looked back at him when he heard Wooyoung scoff, giving him a glare that he didn’t quite know where to place. Unnerving? Disappointing?

“Was it good?” He asked. For the first time in never, Yeosang had a million answers to the vaguest question. “What you did.”

“Good?”

“Did it feel good?”

If transcendental experiences such as the one he just went through were meant to feel that way, then his answer would have been an affirmative one.

He nodded.

“You’re a mess.”

Yeosang walked his finger around the mark Wooyoung left on his thigh, as delicately as he’d caress a flower. “S’what I am when you’re not around.”

“Nah,” Wooyoung denied on a playful note, leaning down to Yeosang’s waist, placing butterfly kisses on his chosen spot. “You’re a bigger mess when I’m around.” And once again, thrust his fangs in just to get a sense of his skin, and Yeosang felt his lips different, softer, like they were there for the sake of tasting his flesh, rather than to leave bruises. Yeosang rolled his eyes until they fell closed and his cheek fell against his shoulder. When Wooyoung released him, he felt the indent of his every tooth pulsing below his ribcage, and in that moment, Yeosang failed to understand why people resorted to alcohol when that feeling overtopped the state of being intoxicated. “Don’t be ashamed.” Wooyoung said, stroking Yeosang’s cheek. “You’re a fire breather.” And as if he knew Yeosang’s chest was where the fire burned at its wildest, he touched it, and spread his fingers. “You’re the only fire I never want to put out.” He whispered. His palm on Yeosang’s chest felt like brand marking. His words were pyrographic. “If you burned me, I’d say please and thank you.”

Wooyoung’s fingers crawled upwards to the nape of Yeosang’s neck, with his thumb caressing at his jaw. Yeosang thought he had put the fire out himself, now that he had expressed his most repressed feelings, and from the calm, mildly encouraging look Wooyoung gave him, he didn’t understand why he waited so long. The time he had spent with Wooyoung had valued so much to him, and he never ceased to marvel at how he had the power to turn seconds into minutes and minutes into hours. Wooyoung had probably caressed his cheek for five seconds, but to him it seemed far longer. Neither of which were enough. He forgot how long they have been seeing each other for, and how they had gone through so much in what society saw as a short time.

Yeosang never understood the phrase ‘I can’t live without’ until Wooyoung. Not only because he loved him so much that he failed to see his life without him, but because he had no memory of his life before Wooyoung. Whenever he tried to go back to his life three months ago or earlier, memories would turn their backs on him. Either because they now became repressed, unneeded, or triggering, it did not matter. Every reason was good enough for him.

He felt two arms picking him up and gently lying him on the bed, and then two hands on his hips and two fingers underneath the waistband of his laced briefs, and a question he did not pay attention to. His fingers twitched at the sudden wave of cold when Wooyoung pulled them off, and no nerve in Yeosang’s head wanted to protest. Not when Wooyoung came back to clean the mess on his navel, not when he kissed his legs and hips before sliding on his new briefs, or when he covered him back up. He found it outrageous as much as he found it normal, and he prayed that when he was at his wakest, he would not regret.

Wooyoung was next to him, with his chin in his palm, and his lower half underneath the covers. Yeosang rolled over to him, until his forehead hit his chest, and nuzzled into his safest spot until Wooyoung wrapped an arm around him. His usual scent was not there anymore, and for once, Yeosang saw it as a good sign.

“My performance is soon,” He rasped, tilting his head to rub at his eyes.

“Yeah. You’ll do so well. We’ll be there for you.”

When Wooyoung lied his head down, Yeosang took his hand and placed it under his head as a pillow, holding him by his wrist, and giving his thumb some liberty of movement to touch his lips if he wanted. “I need a favour.”

It wasn’t the statement itself that surprised Wooyoung, because he was going to agree nonetheless, but the sudden directness and the lack of sweetness in his voice. And that made him wonder.

“I don’t want to see Heejin. At all.” Yeosang rubbed the tip of his nose against Wooyoung’s palm, as if he really wanted to bury his face into a pillow. “I know you- you have stuff to do, but please, I’ll never ask this of you again. Please stay with me.”

Wooyoung seemed to be the only one in that club who was able to forget that Heejin existed. Last time he saw him perform was around two weeks ago, and he heard some rumours about him being in Busan for some photoshoot. Then he popped out of nowhere in his workshop demanding his time as if he owed him money. Whatever this person did in his life, it was not enough to interest Wooyoung. He saw his name when he looked through the costumes, and he had a one second memory of Yunho excluding himself from the conversation when Heejin was mentioned.

But then it all dawned upon him. What Yeosang had told him earlier, and how he made sure to say that it was only the surface. Wooyoung did not need to know anything more.

“I think you should.” Wooyoung said, risking it all. “I think you should look at him if you see him. I think you should smile at him. Mirror everything he does.” He caressed Yeosang’s lips as slowly as he’d kiss him. “Make him fear you.”

“Burn him?”

“Please.”

*

Wooyoung applied setting spray almost all over Yeosang, and had him wave his hand around for quite a while to make sure the paint on his hand was fully dry. He was acting too professional to be endeared, impressed, and in love, but what he felt could not compare to what Yeosang went through. They had not talked at all since he came out of the shower and went to put his costume on. He reverted to being polite to Wooyoung, and speaking only two necessary words at once. Wooyoung did his best to keep him busy, talking to him about whatever, although he basically talked to himself. But he knew Yeosang was listening.

He was focused yet hyper-aware, but what he didn’t know was that Wooyoung made sure Heejin wasn’t around. He had locked the door to the workshop. While he did Yeosang’s body makeup, he noticed his hand tremors had made a comeback, although he tried to play it cool. Wooyoung did not bring it up, but what he did was to kiss Yeosang’s hand until he felt it relax. Yeosang loved hand kisses, Wooyoung noticed. He had a tendency to move his hand around to have more and more spots kissed. Even while his hand trembled, he still did that. And Wooyoung provided. He kissed his knuckles and palm until Yeosang sighed and demanded a real kiss. After that, he was less scared. He looked as powerful as he felt.

Once they went downstage, Hongjoong took over with the hair and the headpiece while Wooyoung went to prepare his cold towels. Dancers were there to cheer for him, massage his shoulders and remind him he’s going to do well, but Yeosang was too kind to tell them that they were disrupting his inner piece.

When he had twenty seconds left to go on stage, he stood up, as proud as a god of fire, with the staff in his hand. He told Wooyoung he loved him and that he was grateful for him more times in eight seconds than he had done in one month.

When he had ten seconds left, Wooyoung kissed him one last time and rushed together with Hongjoong to their table in the front, where Seonghwa, San, and Jongho were already waiting. Mingi watched from backstage, where Jubilee would join him soon.

She walked out first, dressed in a long, crimson gown, and she spoke like she sung. So aware of the rhythm in her speech, that she could easily turn two opposite words into a rhyme. Muse, goddess queen and king. The light fell on her suavely and dark, the sparkle in her lipgloss enough to illuminate her entire face. She paused. Wooyoung held his breath. She spread her arms, her long sleeves flowing like wings, took a short bow, and Wooyoung had regained the ability to live in the present when she said “…I present to you,

‘Titanium Blossoming’.”

The lights went out low, until full blackout. Wooyoung’s fingers were around his glass, but a foreign thought from a foreign voice told him to keep still and hold his breath. As soon as he did, from the speakers came a soft sound, rhythmical and steady. The gentle sound of qanun strings rang at once with Wooyoung’s heartbeats, and he didn’t know about anyone else, but if the point of the instrument was to build anticipation, it was doing marvels for him. As hypersensitive as his hearing was, he caught a sliver of sound coming from the gold appliqués clinking like glass. The stage lit up again, slowly with a soft yellow, accentuating the red chiffon backdrops, and all of the warm coloured rhinestones decorating it.

As Yeosang made his way to the centre of the stage, wrapped in ashes and ember with the lit fire staff dangerously close to him, Wooyoung had to check his pulse. He stepped on his tiptoes, then set the sole of his foot down. Gracefully, and proudly, like the Middle-Eastern dancers Yeosang admired so much.

His eyes were yellow, and his skin scintillated like he had been bathed in gold. He looked downcast, counting the beats and seconds with light taps with his toes against the floor. When the sounds of drums joined along, he tossed his fire staff towards the ceiling with his left hand and caught it back with his right. From there, the tempo quickened, and Yeosang’s fire charming began.

He spun the staff quicker, until it resembled a floating fire wheel, and the illuminated lines in his skirt looked like the way flames expand when they are about to swallow something in close proximity. In full control of the flames and the music, Yeosang made the fire shape like the instruments being played. His eyes were like in a trance, and his mouth was relaxed. When the wick would be in kissing range to his face, he’d smile and sometimes swipe his tongue quick enough for the flame not to catch on. He stretched his arm, palm up as if presenting, and walked the wick from his wrist to his shoulder, sensually smiling as he did to assure he was safe. Wooyoung’s mouth went dry.

Next to him, San’s mouth hung open, mesmerised at how Yeosang twirled as fast as an ice skater during double Axel, handling the staff like they did in fantasy movies. He held it perfectly balanced on the back of his hand, kneeled on the floor, then spun the staff once until the middle of it rested in between his shoulders. He tilted his head back enough to secure it there, and holding his head still, he leaned forward onto his elbows, then raised his legs in a scorpion pose. He stood a perfect handstand, and as he turned back into a standing position, the fire staff rolled down his back, and he caught it within his palm. Tossing the staff once again to balance it on the back of his wrist, he swung it into eight figures, catching it with his other hand. He let the staff roll back to his neck, from which he spun around freely while doing neck wraps.

If after the performance Wooyoung would find out that half of it was improvised, he would be disappointed if it wasn’t. Yeosang’s moves and tricks were well connected, but not in a sense that they were well choreographed, but in a way that Wooyoung saw him move much as he did when he was off stage. Yeosang was, in every possible sense, so deep rooted within his element, that Wooyoung would not be surprised if the fire didn’t burn him at all.

When Yeosang began his series of Angel Rolls, San took both Jongho and Wooyoung’s hands like he did when they watched horror movies. He spun faster and faster, smiling as if rituals were named after him, as if Prometheus was his birth name. He came to a stop sharply, allowing the staff to fall from his hand. One second, it was resting on his wrist, the next within his elbow, and from there, on his hip. Between each roll, he paused, looked towards the people before him, smiled, and continued. The staff itself was of black iron; the flames at its ends appeared as if they were floating.

For a second, he kneeled down, his back facing the audience, then he stood up, held the staff diagonally to his mouth, filled his lungs with air, blowing the fire with the strength of a storm, and making the flames roar up like fire birds dissipating. And once again, filled his mouth with oil, his lungs with hot air, faced the audience, and blew the flames across the first row.

With that, he threw the staff in the air, as it landed back into his palm, lightly as a feather, like it was under a spell, and Yeosang took his final bow.

Wooyoung’s heart stopped when the music did. He pulled his hand away from San, downed his shot quickly, and stood up, initiating the applause and whistles. San and Jongho followed, Seonghwa and Hongjoong, then the rest of the lounge. Everyone clapped until their hands were as red as Yeosang’s. For a second, he and Wooyoung met eyes, and although the latter wanted to smile, he saw Yeosang’s eyes too red and too watery, and he found it beyond his control to hold his joy back.

“That’s my boyfriend!” He shouted, in tandem with a girl from one table to his left, who yelled: “That’s my brother!” The two met eyes, and Wooyoung looked at her with so much surprise, that when he turned around Yeosang was gone backstage. Wooyoung leaned in to San and Jongho, letting them know they need to help out in the back, his arms itching to hold and kiss Yeosang.

As he turned around to leave, a hand tugged on his shirt. “Did you say he’s your boyfriend?” Said a girl slightly shorter than him, with black to red ombre hair, a black lace top with a bralet underneath, and chains wrapped around her waist. “Kang Yeonha?” She was pretty, but Wooyoung was too blinded to see the resemblance. She nodded, and only when she grinned Wooyoung saw it. “I’ll tell him you’re here.” He said, squeezing her hand in a promising way.

He ran backstage, grinning to himself like an idiot, ready to shout Yeosang’s name as soon as he opened the door, but all that died down when he saw him crying with his forehead against Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Baby?”

Yeosang lifted his head, stood up, stumbling on his skirt in the process, and dropping the cold towel from his hands and enveloped Wooyoung into the tenderest hug, kissing him like he fell in love all over again. “I did it,” He mumbled in between kisses. He sounded broken and exhausted, but not disappointed, like Wooyoung was worried about. “I did it.”

“You did it. You did it, baby. You did so good. Is that why you’re crying?” He cupped Yeosang’s cheeks to wipe his tears, but his heart shattered when he saw his makeup stained cheeks. He did not tell him that Yunho was taking pictures of the whole interaction behind him.

Yeosang nodded. “Yeah, I- I did it.”

And they kissed again.

Wooyoung guided him by the shoulders towards the door, but he felt two arms wrapped around them, then two more, then other two, and they both found themselves into the biggest group hug he’s ever been a part of. He hugged Hongjoong back with one arm, and at the sudden attention directed at him, Yeosang ducked his head and and started crying even worse. But beneath his hands, he was smiling, and his hiccups became laughs.

With his hand against the small of his back, Wooyoung guided him upstairs and rushed him out of his costume when he saw how red had his skin become because of the tape on his back. The second his was out of it, and unrestricted in any way, Yeosang tossed himself on the couch with a loud moan. Once he closed his eyes, he found it hard to open them. Wooyoung watched him fondly, the pink on his lips instead of his naked chest, his puffy cheeks instead of his thighs. Wooyoung sat next to him with the makeup remover and cotton discs on his lap, surprising him with a kiss before taking his makeup off.

When Yeosang was tired and on the verge of falling asleep, he became ticklish. Every time Wooyoung walked the cotton disc over his neck, he’d tilt his head back, cover his mouth with his hand, and laugh. Wooyoung did that several times more just to hear him, too distracted by how much love he felt in his own eyes to laugh with him. “D’you wanna stand up?” He asked, but Yeosang kept on laughing. This time, was at nothing. He showed Wooyoung his finger, gesturing for him to wait, but in the end he pulled himself up, attempted to collect himself, exhaling deeply as many times as he needed, only to start all over again. He buried his face to Wooyoung’s chest and even pleaded him to make him stop laughing. Wooyoung had never seen him laugh with tears, and he loved how he did not wipe them away. “Why are you laughing, though?” Yeosang shook his head, lifted his head up, appearing to be emotionless. He hugged Wooyoung, maintained his seriousness for a few seconds, before he started again. Wooyoung gave in. When Yeosang’s laugh sounded as close as possible to a squeak, Wooyoung started laughing too.

And from there, they laughed at the way each other’s laughed, until they held onto each other so they won’t collapse. When Wooyoung wanted to stand up, his knee gave in and fell down, which did not help how weak they already felt. Wooyoung laughed until he started coughing, and Yeosang got too brave and wanted to fall back down when his stomach couldn’t take it anymore. However, he miscalculated the distance, and banged his head against the armrest, gathering himself up in a ball which had only prompted both of them to laugh even more. “I love you. I love you so much.” Yeosang said, his face in his palms, and shaking his head.

“Are you crying or laughing?” Wooyoung wiped his tears. His glasses were long gone.

Yeosang sniffled, then he giggled. “Both. I’m both. I love you. I really do.”

Wooyoung cleared his throat to get his voice back, then crawled over back to the couch, wrapping his hand loosely around Yeosang’s ankle. “Me too, sugar. I love you too. Are you crying now? I can’t tell.”

Giggling some more, Yeosang’s shoulder twitched upwards. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Oh, no,” Wooyoung cooed, going to sit back next to him. He had recently found out Yeosang did not liked to be hugged when he was crying because he could not breathe, so he only kissed his pink birthmark and patted his head. “It’s okay to cry. Today’s only about you. You did so good.”

Yeosang shook his head once more. Wooyoung couldn’t understand why. “I love you. A lot. I really love you a lot.” Wooyoung stood up and brought him tissues, gently dabbing it on his cheeks and hands, wherever tears spilled. “I love you more than anything.”

“Me too, sugar. I love you most.”

Yeosang took the tissue away from Wooyoung’s hand and wiped his cheeks and chin, exhaling freely. Wooyoung took out another tissue and held it over his nose. “Blow your nose.”

With a displeased look, Yeosang took the tissue and turned around.

“All better?”

“…Why did I do that?” Yeosang tossed the napkin in the trash, and massaged his cheeks. “What was that?”

“Not sure, but you look like you feel okay now.”

“Yeah. I’ve never done that before.”

“A breakdown?”

“A laughing breakdown, then a crying one.”

“…You look very cute.”

“My cheeks feel…swollen…I need a shower.”

“Wait,” Wooyoung took him by the wrist when he stood up to leave. “Wanted to tell you your sister’s here.”

Yeosang whipped his head towards him at once, his eyebrows knitted and his lips about to scrunch up. “Yeonha noona?”

“Yeah.”

Turning back to looking at his reflection to check how presentable his face looked after that, Yeosang put the conversation on hold, and Wooyoung, understanding the message,gave him some space, and went to tend to the costume, to check for any damages, then to arrange it.

“I want to see her, but I just feel a bit unstable now. Can you keep her busy until I finish here?”

“Sure. Just don’t forget you look great. You don’t look like you just cried. And you’re excused for being an airhead.”

Wooyoung gave him several seconds to change his mind, but his eyes did not seem to waver. He took the hairbrush and gently went through his damp hair. “You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I need a power-up hug.”

“Power-up hug coming right up.” Wooyoung sunk down to his knees besides him and draped his arms around his lover. Over his shoulder, Yeosang sighed quietly through his nose, and Wooyoung kissed his shoulder. His arms were comfortable where they were, and he had no intention of letting go.

“Should I let you go?” Yeosang mumbled. Wooyoung had gotten to used to feeling his arms around him.

“You let me go when you feel like it.” And Yeosang hugged him tighter.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. For like three days now.” At that, Wooyoung had indeed let him go, and held his hands instead. “I want your other earring too. It’s okay to say no.”

With a bright smile on, Wooyoung took his earring off and handed it to him, with no second thoughts. Yeosang put it on right away, then searched through his jewellery box for his other winged chain earring, taking the liberty to put in on Wooyoung. Yeosang knew he liked wearing asymmetric earrings, but he liked how long, chain ones framed his face. “Thank you.” He said, kissing Wooyoung so quickly that he almost startled. “I’ll meet you two outside?”

“Sure.” 

Wooyoung stood up, quickly cleaned his lenses, ruffled his hair, and he was off.

He searched through the packed tables for a black-to-red hair, not expecting to find it at San and Jongho’s table. She and San seemed to be having a vivid conversation, both gesticulating wildly about who knows what. Jongho shifted his position when he saw Wooyoung approaching. “Look at you being best friends.” Wooyoung pointed, dropping into the free seat next to Jongho.

“We were talking about Yeosang actually.”

“Without me?”

Yeonha took a sip of her wine, swirling the glass into her palm. “Is he okay?”

“He’s changing now, he said he’ll meet you soon. But outside, it’s a lot quieter.”

*

Yeonha stood with her back against the rail, with both her arms and her feet crossed. She left her glass somewhere she wasn’t supposed to, but out of curtesy, Wooyoung said nothing and went to take the glass back himself. “How long have you two been together?” She asked.

The balcony was right over the door; Wooyoung was looking down at the people chatting and drinking, and some were walking away. He liked to see that no one was alone. Everyone left in either pairs or groups, and they were all laughing and trying to imitate some of the moves Yeosang did during his number.

“Just little over a month.”

“He hasn’t said anything. Mom asks about him a lot.”

“I see.” Wooyoung dismissed, buying himself as much time as he could. When people talked about things that Yeosang was secretive about, Wooyoung chose to turn a blind eye out of respect for him. He wanted to know more about his family, as much as common sense allowed, but among many other things, Yeosang taught him patience. “I hope you’ll sort things out.”

“I don’t think we will. He’s difficult.”

Wooyoung nodded to himself. “He’s only said good things about you, though.” Or so he recalled. The more Wooyoung looked at her, the more he saw the resemblance. She didn’t seem like a bad person. In fact, he thought she was fun to have around.

“Is he nice to you? Is he difficult?”

“Would I be with someone who’s not nice to me?” He asked. Yeonha nudged him, giggling. “I wouldn’t say he’s difficult. He just needs someone to feel safe with.”

“I’m guessing you’re that someone?”

“…I hope-”

“He is.” Yeosang said, staring at the little space between the two, and what prompted them to stand so close to each other. His hair was drawn all the way back, tucked behind his ears, a grey, silk shirt, and an ashen, metallic-ruched blazer, paired up with black trousers.

The other two were given several seconds to admire the view. Yeosang’s fashion sense was something Wooyoung chose to never get used to.

“Look at you!” Yeonha shouted, appearing to sound genuine. Yeosang was ready to thank her, until she said: “You don’t look like a dude anymore.” With a smile on, as if she was sure her message came across clearly.

Yeosang’s lips froze into place, unable to smile, or say anything. “Right…” He made his way to Wooyoung’s side where he, indeed, felt safest. “So how are you?”

“Back in Seoul for the next days or so, and Minji told me about this thing you’ve been working on, so I came to see you.”

“She tells you about me?”

“Well you won’t tell me anything, so someone has to.”

“Why do you have to know?”

“…Look, I know where you’re getting at, but at the end of the day, there’s people back home who worry about you, who haven’t seen your face in months. It won’t hurt you to call at least once. When was the last time you talked to mom?”

“I told her happy birthday.” 

“Yeosang, that was last month.”

“…Yeah. It was.— Did you come here to check on me or to interrogate me?”

“The first one, but if you’re being difficult, then I’ll have to resort to the second one. You won’t even tell me where you live. Have you changed your mind about it?”

“No.” Yeosang said sharply, like a gavel against a sound block.

“But you let me stay at your place.”

“Because you had nowhere else to go. I’m not giving you my address.”

“I’m not taking the cat from you.”

“That’s not the only reason.”

“Then what?…Are you worried about me telling mom where you live?”

Yeosang looked downcast. 

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re acting like she’ll send the police to hunt you down and drag your ass back home…I promise, no one’ll say anything.”

“…Just tell me what you want from me.”

“At this point, I just want to be your friend again. I want you to stop thinking that I’ll report everything to mom and dad. They know we have our own lives, and as long as we earn our money legally and have somewhere to stay, they won’t bother with us.”

“You want me to tell them I’m dating a guy too, then?”

“I told them about me.”

“You what?” 

“Yeah. I told them I like girls too. They didn’t have a good reaction, but if they can’t take it, it’s on them. So this shouldn’t stop you.” She slapped Yeosang’s arm jokingly, then grabbed his shirt and pretended to shake him. “I care about you, you asshole, stop treating me like I’m the bad guy! I have one baby brother, and even he acts like I don’t exist!” Then she hugged him, squeezing his waist, and with that, his airways, balancing them left and right all together.

Yeosang gave Wooyoung a look that said ‘save me’, but Wooyoung patted his back, saying “I’ll give you a moment.”

The next time he turned around, Yeosang had hugged Yeonha back. He only wished they had more time.

Before going back to San, Wooyoung went out to collect the glasses that the costumers had left behind, knowing that on a show night, the waiters and the barmen were more than packed. What he did not expect was to find Jongho there, sitting down on the ground, playing on his phone. “Hey, kiddo,” He said, sitting down besides him and ruffling his hair. Maybe there was still a chance for Jongho to like him. “Why’re you alone?”

Jongho put his phone away and shrugged his shoulders. Wooyoung had a sort of experience guessing what people were thinking based on their countenance. He had Yeosang to thank for that. But it was too cold and he had a full day to be patient with anyone else, so he resorted to cheering Jongho up. “You wanna help me clear the tables out?”

Jongho nodded. He refused to enter the club if someone wasn’t in front of him so he could follow. Wooyoung did a marvellous job at keeping him close. They went on the other side of the bar, rinsing the glasses once before putting them in the washing machine. They made eye contact often, and Wooyoung still did not know what Jongho’s voice sounded like. Judging by his eyes, he did not seem to be comfortable there, always on edge like he was being followed. Wooyoung understood, but there was no way of explaining him that no one would get he was under eighteen just by looking at him. Jongho was very mature looking, especially his profile face. His arms were thick with muscle, and his pecks stood out from underneath his shirt.

On the other corner of the bar, on the last seat, sat a man in a white shirt who had not shaved in several days. He was smoking, and an empty glass sat by his hand. Next to him was San, who was looking at the man. Not very impressed. Wooyoung knew that look better than anything. San looked at people like that when he was ready to contradict or fight them, but he held back.

“So do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?” The man asked San, who had passed him his cigarette. San refused.

“No, but I’m promised to someone.” San disclosed, and raised his head to meet Jongho’s eyes, with a bright smile on.

Wooyoung had in mind to take Jongho with him for a walk and show him around so they could talk about San more. He wanted to explain how San was one of the most loyal people to have ever existed, even if he never hesitated to make new friends or connections. That man next to him meant nothing.

Jongho smiled timidly, looking back down to the glass he was rinsing, before passing it to Wooyoung, and making himself busy with he next one. “Do you drink?” Wooyoung asked him.

“Just…soft stuff.”

Wooyoung nodded, took two bottles of Sprite out of the fridge (which he had paid for), popped them open, then went to walk around with Jongho, signalling to San to join them when he finished flirting.

“You don’t have to stay with me if you’re busy.”

“I’m not. Performances ended. Boyfriend’s upstairs, family bonding.”

Wooyoung took him upstairs, gave him a tour of the workshop as much as he was allowed to, the practice rooms, and only a glimpse of Yeosang’s room. Jongho was mostly quiet throughout the viewing, but Wooyoung caught him smiling sometimes. He found out Jongho had been playing the piano and violin from an early age, and that he was also a decent singer. Or so he called himself. He refused to demonstrate Wooyoung.

At the end of the tour, they went back to their table, and Jongho had become able to look Wooyoung in the eyes while he spoke about University. And from that topic, they jumped into how he and San had met and how they got to live together.

“I slept in your bed and looked through your drawings.” Jongho confessed, like he wanted to taunt him.

Wooyoung shrugged. “That’s cool. I like how San didn’t hesitate to call you over once I was gone.”

“Yeah, he said you should be gone more often.”

Although there was music playing in the lounge, and the people talking from three tables back weren’t that quiet, they still heard San’s squeaky laugh coming from the bar. “Literally all this guy does is to cry and to pretend he’s a Greek God, from midnight to 5AM, and on weekends. And when he doesn’t, he screams lines from movies or writes his assignments. That’s all he does.”

Wooyoung said nothing but the truth, with no intention to make Jongho laugh. The fact that he did, and he made him maintain his smile afterwards was a bonus. “I try not to worry.”

“Yeah, don’t, but still,” He looked San’s way, hoping he’d look back and take the hint, but when he didn’t, Wooyoung sighed. “Do you want me to drag him back?”

“…No. Let him have fun.”

“I’ll drag him back.”

And so he did. Quite literally. He hoisted San up by the armpits and dragged him to the table, waving his hand goodbye to the man who sat next to him. “Think about how he feels.” Wooyoung mumbled in San’s ear. Then Sat got back to his feet, slapped his face back to life, messed his hair up, returned to the bar to get his absinthe, then came back to the table. “Sorry, we were talking about the Trojan War.”

“How the fuck do you always find someone who’s into mythos?”

“I quoted from ‘The Trojan Horse and the Sack of Troy’ because we weren’t talking about anything. Then we started talking about it. And we contradicted each other on why and how the war actually started.”

“…Because Helen was captured?”

“Yeah, but why? Ever thought about why Helen was captured?”

“I guess not.”

“It started from an apple. A golden one. The Apple of Discord Eris made because she was petty for not being invited to Thetis’ wedding. This apple was supposed to belong to the fairest goddess. So Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena fought over it. And obviously no other god wanted to get involved because who wants to mess with ‘em. Anyway, so they went to this guy called Paris and promised him stuff because he wasn’t able to decide. Hera promised him power, Athena promised him skill and victories in battles, and Aphrodite promised she’d give him the prettiest woman in the world. And who was this lady? Yeah, Helen. Did Aphrodite care she was already married? No. Did she care she indirectly started the war? Also no…So yeah, that guy knew nothing. What were you guys talking about?”

Both Wooyoung and Jongho failed to answer right away at the sudden change of subject. San had a lot more energy in him than those two combined, and no one in that room was ready for him.

“…Do you wanna keep talking about the war? Sounds like you have a lot to say.”

“Nah, I’m good.” He ran his hand through Jongho’s hair. “I wasn’t flirting with him. I promise.”

“I know.”

San leaned his chin onto the table, right next to Jongho’s hand. “Can I get head pats?”

Jongho’s face looked like he was ready to refuse, but he set his drink aside and carded his fingers through San’s hair, playing with his dark locks, softly scratching his scalp. San tilted his head around for him to cover more area, and Jongho giggled at his reaction.

It was small gestures of love such as those that made Wooyoung want to get up in the morning.

“Hi, sorry,” Someone said from behind Wooyoung, tapping his shoulder. “Decided to stop being creepy and tell you that I’ve been looking at you since you came here. You’re really cute.” The guy was tall, too tall, with a white V-neck turned inside his jeans. Not bad looking.

“…At least you’re honest.”

“Are you…alone here?”

Wooyoung was ready to say no, but bit his tongue in time. “Yeah. I am.”

“Oh, cool, can I have your number?”

“Not even gonna ask for my name first?” Wooyoung asked, taking the phone and already typing a number in. “Here. Guess I’ll talk to you soon?”

The guy nodded and walked away with an accomplished smile on.

“What the fuck are you doing?” San attacked instantly, looking at him like he looked at the man from the bar. He was ready to throw hands.

Wooyoung snickered to himself and went to get himself another soft drink. And help around with orders while he was at it. The barman who was on the shift that night was also a major cutie. Wooyoung did not have many interactions with him, although he liked to assume they got along. His most vivid memory of him was how pale his face went when he told him that he and Yeosang were dating, saying ‘Out of all the guys here, you chose the scariest’. Wooyoung agreed in silence.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as in love with their job as you are.” San said, putting Jongho’s hand back on his head when he wanted to take it away, gesturing for him to go back to patting. “You’re everywhere.”

“I mean it’s-”

“You’re so annoying!” Yeosang snapped, slamming his palm against the table, glaring at Wooyoung. 

“…What did I do?”

“I got this text from an unknown number saying ‘You’re so cute’ and then I asked who that was and he said ‘Aren’t you the guy with blond hair and glasses’. I hate you, why did you give him my number?”

Wooyoung tipped his head back, laughing while softly clapping his hands. “Because it was funny! And I didn’t feel like dealing with him!”

Yeosang sighed his anger out and went back to replying to the guy. Wooyoung looped his arm around his hips, kissing his waist through his shirt. “What’d you tell him?” And Yeosang lowered the phone to his face, the text reading ‘No, it’s the guy he’s dating. Goodbye.’ Wooyoung kissed his waist again before pulling Yeosang into his lap, and fully wrapping his arms around him. “You’re my fave, you know that.”

“I do?”

“You should.”

“Being with you is a full-time job, and I don’t like it.”

“How is it a full-time job, I’m not that stressful.”

“I can’t step away from you for five seconds, and there’s a guy trying to get it on with you.”

“…That happened like twice?”

“It happened more than five times and we both know it.” Yeosang leaned down until his lips brushed against Wooyoung, and kissed him angrily. “You tried to hide it, but I still saw.”

“Can’t help it. I love it when you defend me.”

“I hate it.” Yeosang said through his teeth, before kissing Wooyoung again.

“No, you don’t.” Wooyoung smiled into the kiss, and bit Yeosang’s lip before he drew back. “Where’s noona?”

“Noona? Are you that close?” 

“We will be. I’m part of the family now.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes and sat in the last free seat, in between Jongho and Wooyoung. “She had to leave to catch the last train.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have more time.” 

“It’s okay. Kinda glad she left.”

“…Because of what she said?”

“Yeah. Not a fan of those type of remarks. ‘You don’t look like a dude anymore’, the hell does that even mean? Did I ask? No, I didn’t.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever. We made up. Everything’s okay now.” He picked the Sprite bottle up, the one in front of Wooyoung, ready to drink, then he thought about the impossibility of Wooyoung drinking something that didn’t have forty percent ABV. “Whose is this?” Wooyoung raised his hand. “You. Soft drinks. Damn, who hurt you?”

“Good question.” San began. “How come?”

Wooyoung lowered his head, pointing with his thumb at Yeosang. “He scolded me.”

“Wasn’t really a scolding, but as long as it worked,” Yeosang tilted his head up, finishing the drink in one go. “Also, I need to talk to them.” He gestured towards San and Jongho. “Do you think you could make yourself busy around here. We’re closing soon anyway.”

Wooyoung blinked. “…Sometimes I miss the days when you were soft and shy.”

“I don’t.” Yeosang said sharply, like a sword unsheathing.

“I know, baby. I wasn’t serious.”

“But I really need you to leave for a few minutes.” 

Wooyoung pouted.

*

Whatever Yeosang had to tell them about, it was important enough for him to take them upstairs once the people started clearing. It was probably for a good reason, because Wooyoung had pouted until Yeosang called him by his full name, which in that context, was the equivalent to him cursing. When he walked past the changing room, both Jongho and San were heartily laughing, and Wooyoung’s pout had gotten the size of his heart.

He helped with the closing and with seeing the guests out, winking to the guy whom he gave the wrong number to earlier. He did not expect the guy to wink back.

When the bar staff went in the back, Wooyoung took the liberty to take over the sound system and play songs that fit his mood. He played slow instrumentals and live sessions, which nobody seemed to mind. With his third soft drink in his hand, he went to sit at the table in the front he left free for the meeting. 

He’s always underestimated how popular he was in the club, until the dancers would always shout his name separately just to wish him a good night and to toss finger hearts at him. They only interacted when dressing up and taking measurements. Next came Seonghwa, carrying a sulky Hongjoong on his back. He couldn’t stay because he had to get ready for tomorrow. He was hired as a nude model for an art class and now he was babying Hongjoong to let them know it’s okay and that it’s not forever. Wooyoung had to unwrap them from around Seonghwa, and carry them to their seat while Seonghwa made a run for it. But he didn’t. He came back to Hongjoong to kiss them. “One more.” Hongjoong said. “One more?” Seonghwa gave. “One more. Last one, I promise.” Seonghwa sighed, but he delivered. He gave Hongjoong two more kisses and finally left. “It’s okay, I do that all the time. He loves me.” Hongjoong said to assure Wooyoung.

The other three that Wooyoung had a minor grudge on came back downstairs. For whatever reason, Jongho’s arms were around Yeosang’s shoulders and he was completely cool with it.

Jubilee left her working den with a countenance to match a sales’ assistant’s. Then Mingi called at the right moment and all became rainbows and glitter again. “Never thought I’d say this in my life,” she said, tossing her phone, disgusted, across the table. “But I missed you all. I’ve never missed you this much. How’s life? What’s the tea? —Yeosangie, sweetie, you were stunning. How daring and venturesome. Loved it, baby, loved it. So precise and fluid. What do you have for us next?”

“…I’m thinking the buugeng…and the fire hoop. Later.”

“You are not using a fire hoop!” Wooyoung jumped in.

“It’s okay. It’s safe. I’ve done it before. Trust me.” Yeosang said, taking Wooyoung’s hand and guiding it to the nape of his neck in demands for a neck massage.

“Do expect your performance to draw a lot of attention.” Jubilee smiled. “Interviews. Articles.” Yeosang nodded. “Don’t be afraid. You’re representing a small community of people. You might inspire some. They have nothing bad to say.”

“…I’ll do my best.”

Jubilee clapped her hands happily, rising back up, and running her fingers through her long hair. “See, your number was such a big deal, it even brought our Sannie out of his den. I’ve missed you, dear.”

“I missed you too. I’ve been busy with the theatre. Lemme tell you, every time ‘El Tango de Roxanne’ starts playing, I think about my queen.”

Jubilee clicked her tongue. “Ah, and here I thought it was ‘Habanera’.” She giggled, her eyes switching to the honey boy sitting next to San. “Oh my, a little cherub. Is he the boyfriend? What’s your name, precious?”

Jongho looked San in the eyes pleadingly. “Choi Jongho?”

“Your name doesn’t ring familiar, but I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere. You’ve been to the club before, yes?”

With eyes evasive, and shoulders squeezed tight, Jongho nodded.

“No need to be scared. It’s not the end of the world.” Jubilee approached the table like a tigress seeking. “But you know there’s a reason why we don’t allow anybody under eighteen here, yes?”

Jongho nodded. He allowed himself to be hugged sideways by San, and having his hair pat, but that didn’t seem to make him smile.

“Do your parents know?” Jubilee asked in her softest, most motherly tone she had.

He shook his head, his eyes glued on his hands playing with his keychain.

Jubilee sighed, and walked over to them. She sat down, her arms crossed over the table, watching Jongho until he decided to look back at her, but he was too stubborn. “Do you know people here?”

“…Almost everyone.”

“And do you like it here that much?”

Jongho was close to ripping the rubber keychain in two. He nodded, without having looked up yet. Jubilee stood up as if she had made up her mind, walked over to the piano, and tapped it with her sharp nails. “Hongjoong, dear, do you remember ‘When Boy meets Boy’ by Matt Fishel?”

“I do indeed.”

Jubilee spread her arm as if to present the piano, inviting Hongjoong to play. “Please. Just the first verse.”

Hongjoong skipped joyfully to the piano, eyeing every key like it was made from diamonds. They cracked their knuckles, exhaled calmly, and began playing. The song was jovial and cheerful, like it belonged to the comic relief of a show. It instantly put a smile on everyone’s face.

Jubilee awaited for her signal, and began singing:

_“I met Marcus, sitting at the bar_

_He was the kinda guy you wanted to kiss_

_He had the most beautiful piercing eyes_

_And "I-want-to-be-naughty-with-you" lips.”_

She sang with a cheeky smile on, her eyebrows and shoulders fluid to the rhythm.

Jubilee did not perform often, but when she did, it was when she had a point to make. She did not sing for entertainment, but to make people reflect, rethink life, and learn to enjoy it again. She was the eponymous character in her own musical, and everyone was there for it.

_“I'm sat staring at this skateboard_

_scene, Ska Punk-loving guy from Rileys_

_And as the rain came down on that Sunday night_

_He went in for the kill with a glint in his eye.”_

Everyone was stealing glances from Jongho, but he was the only one in that room who did not understand the significance of The Jubilee singing just for him. But by the way his eyes glinted, he seemed to be on the right track. As someone who sang better than he understood love, Jongho’s tongue was itching to join in, but that was not a song he knew. Too shy to ask for the name of the song, Jongho began writing the lyrics down, as soon as Jubilee finished. A part of him wanted to cry, but strangely, not in the real meaning. He didn’t want to shed tears, but his heart shifted a little more to the right, and from that little narrow space behind, a new feeling came forward. Nobody had sung for him before, and in the exact same way they did in movies. Someone told him he could not sing his problems away, but that was exactly what Jubilee had done.

Wooyoung and San applauded and whistled the wildest. Jubilee gesticulated them to continue, feigning to shower in applause, whereas Hongjoong did not know where to further hide their face.

“This is our happy place, Jongho.” Jubilee said, also with the intention to remind everyone that. “I’ll let you know when we won’t have mature performances. So you can come support your friends. Is that okay?”

San took Jongho’s hand in between his and squeezed twice. By the way Jongho got flustered, the others felt free to assume the gesture meant something.

And it did. San had come up with the idea. To squeeze each other’s hands to remind they were they were there for one another when they could not use words.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Just between you and I now,” Jubilee leaned closer, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “Next year we’ll have a free spot, so please consider auditioning.”

“Free spot?”

“Indeed. Some people will…have to go. We have to pluck the weeds out.”

Jubilee smiled her snake smile, and everyone who know what had been going on looked at Yeosang, who also could not believe it.

“But am I what you’re looking for?” Jongho asked.

“See, I’m not looking for anything in particular. I like playing around with performative arts. This club is not essentially a burlesque one, although that’s what it says in the papers. I’ve learned to think of burlesque as a mean, not as an art in itself. Burlesque is all about playing and teasing, and that’s exactly what I like to do with the performances. Give me anything and I’ll make it burlesque.” 

Jongho grabbed his pen again and wrote something at the bottom of the page where he wrote the lyrics. “When are the auditions? What should I prepare? How long should it be?”

Jubilee towered over everyone like a goddess everyone revered, and she smiled proudly. Next to Jongho, San was about to implode with feelings. Wooyoung and Yeosang exchanged looks, their hands tight into each other.

“We haven’t released the info yet, but usually in autumn. You have plenty of time. The auditions are less than ten minutes, but preferably more than three. Something that challenges you best.”

Jongho stared. Then gasped softly. “I already know.” And went back to taking notes.

“…You’re so adorable.” Jubilee clapped her fingers together, like a villain whose plan has finally come together.

She cleared her throat delicately and went to sit down on the margin of the stage. She tapped her nails against the wood, expectantly while looking at everyone. Then she sighed, purposely loud. “How’s life, Ju-Ju, how’s work? Did you sleep and eat well? You always ask us how we’re doing, but we never ask you. You’ve been sleeping in a cold bed for so long now, and no one ever bothered to fill the hole in your heart!" She said in a mocking tone. "…Shame on all of you.”

“How’s life, Ju-Ju? Are you still upset?” Wooyoung broke the ice the quickest.

“Yes, thank you. I am not doing very well. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m some sort of dog. I can’t stand being alone.”

“Maybe you should get a real dog to keep you company.”

“I don’t care if you judge me. Which I know you will do, and that’s fine. I am the most horrible human being in this whole world, I know that…But I am not ready to have fur in my house. Plus I’m here most of the time, and the puppy will be the lonely one.” At that, Yeosang unlocked his phone to look at the picture of Ariadne he had as his lock screen. “And speaking of being lonely, guess who won’t have to be lonely on their birthday tomorrow?” Jubilee said melodiously while winking at Wooyoung.

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m giving you and the boyfriend and lover a day off tomorrow. Have fun.”

By the lack of reaction from Yeosang, he seemed to already know. But he still took Wooyoung’s hand. Over his shoulder, those two met eyes, making Wooyoung frown suspiciously.

He’s gotten an idea what they were signalling to each other about. He put his nosy side to sleep and let them be. His suspicions turned out to be correct when he asked them if they had plans for the next they, and San and Yeosang diverted the subject right away. Well, just San changed the subject, Yeosang told him to shut the hell up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I am highly considering dedicating a sidestory to SeongJoong and JongSan and YunGi. I never thought their relationships would develop so much, even through a small number of lines. I wish I could have given all of them the same amount of attention, but having more then 3 main characters is kind of hard to write, and I did not want to lose track of anyone.  
> Plus I already have so many ideas for YunGi, and there's so much more I want to explore about SeongJoong, and I would definitely see San having a list of epithets for Jongho ;(((
> 
> I'm ok.


	9. Haven, Harbour, and Moon Blinding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll save that first place for someone who deserves to burn for longer.”

The entire next morning San was on duty to report Yeosang everything Wooyoung was doing until he finished with his errands. What he had done the night before was to move to Wooyoung’s room and study while trying to convince him that is was probably a good time to finish his projects. San knew that if Wooyoung worked until late, he would also wake up late, and if Wooyoung woke up late, that meant less time for San having to walk around him without smothering him in hugs and happy birthday wishes. Every hour, he peeped at the door, and every hour, he kept Yeosang updated.

The reason why Yeosang was as stressed as Wooyoung was back with the tiny roses situation, was because while he slept, Ari did not like the wrapping paper Yeosang had bought for Wooyoung. It was black with smudged streaks of gold, and it wasn’t cheap either. Ari had dragged it all the way to the kitchen and had torn it apart. So he went to town again to find the exact same one, or another one that screamed Wooyoung.

San didn’t know if he went to such lengths because he was a chronic perfectionist, or because he was too in love. He had already worked hard enough to make Wooyoung’s birthday perfect. He took care of the first part while San took care of the second.

He was currently on the other side of Wooyoung’s door, texting Yeosang to chill before he popped a vein. He stopped in mid text when he heard Wooyoung groan. San immediately reported and went in to open the door gently, then entered an immediate panic when he saw him grabbing his phone. San took the device away.

And jumped over Wooyoung. Right over the covers, wrapping both his arms around his head and peppering kisses all over his hair. Wooyoung kept on groaning until his lungs gave in. “Get off.”

“Nope. I’m giving you birthday affection.”

Wooyoung tried to reach for his phone again, but it was too far. “What time is it?” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Like twelve.”

“What?” Wooyoung pushed San off him and stood up with so much force, that he almost got dizzy. “Why’d you let me sleep in? What year is it? Am I working today?”

“No. Club’s closed.”

Wooyoung dragged his palm over his face, his head already blasting. “I swear I had like fifteen dreams. One after another. My head’s killing me.” He gathered his knees to his chest, slotting the pillow in between his legs and chest, and lied his head down. He contemplated about going back to sleep, until: “Yeosang. Where’s my phone? Did he reply?”

“Does he ever reply?” He asked, grabbing the phone with his feet like a claw machine. “You don’t have any plans today, do you?”

“Uni.” Wooyoung’s voice came out in a full rasp.

“You’re not gonna spend time with me? With us?”

Wooyoung chuckled while rubbing his eyes again, leaning all the way back for San to give him a back hug. “I am. Tonight? Figured we could go for drinks.”

San hummed, slightly suspicious, slightly worried. “You wanna see what I got you?”

“Can you show me after I shower? I need to wake up properly.”

“Sure thing. I’m spoiling you today.”

And he spoiled himself in the shower too, by finally playing music out loud. San had nothing against it, but he was simply not a fan of all of Wooyoung’s musical interests. Namely, hard rock. But it was his birthday and he could do whatever he wanted. It was the kind of energising he needed. While brushing his teeth, he sent Yeosang a message in which he told him to come to the University when he had time. On the other side of the phone, Yeosang’s batteries were in the red, and he had forgotten his power bank. No, not for his phone, but for his own system.

Wooyoung saw he had read the message and forgot to reply.

He put on his ‘Lucky 13’ T-shirt, black, distressed jeans with an attached ball-and-chain, and Yeosang’s earrings.

“You know, I almost got jealous yesterday.” Wooyoung said, wiping his glasses as he walked out of his room.

San was at the kitchen table, with a blinding grin on his face. On the table lied a Jack Daniels Single Barrel 100 Proof gift box, and next to it was a much smaller black box. “Dude,” Wooyoung whispered, approaching carefully, as if it was a predator. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Happy Birthday?”

“Dude, that’s expensive!”

San shrugged. “You’ve been talking about it for a while.”

“I did. Oh my God, look at the packaging, the colour. I feel poor just looking at it.”

“No need. It’s yours.”

Wooyoung hid his hands. “Can I touch it?”

“It’s yours, you idiot! Open it!”

Wooyoung opened the box with a knife, not wanting to damage anything, even by a tiny scratch, and carefully pulled the heavy bottle out, laying it gently on the flat surface that was the kitchen towel. “It’s gorgeous.” He beamed, and then he took the glass that came with it out. While San went to wash the glass up, Wooyoung opened the smaller box. Inside which were two shot glasses, each carved with Wooyoung’s and San’s initials, in metallic silver. It had been seven months since Wooyoung mentioned he’s always wanted a personalised one. “You remembered!” He cried, running to give San the warmest hug. “I love you!"

“I love you too!” He hugged him back, and kissed his cheek. “But you’re not drinking until you eat something.”

San had made him his favourite cinnamon sticks, this time with chocolate on the side, and his favourite brioche toast with butter and even more chocolate. Wooyoung sobbed and had to stop his soul from ascending with every bite. The butter was melted into the toast, and the chocolate was thickly and evenly spread. He liked sweets in general, but was nowhere near Yeosang level of sweet tooth. All the sweetness before his eyes reminded Wooyoung of him.

“You outdid yourself with this one.”

“Really? That good?”

“I’m feeling the sugar rush. You should make these more often.”

“Right?” San took the empty dishes and took them to the sink. “Too bad’s not your birthday more often.”

Wooyoung tore the bottle’s seal away with his teeth, not wasting any more time. He smelled it with his eyes, ears, tongue and skin, absorbing it into his every pore, and drank straight from the bottle. It burned almost as good as watching Yeosang run his tongue over flaming wicks. He poured it into the glass, drank once more, and handed it to San while shaking his head. “So good. I’m about to breathe fire. So fucking good.”

“…You’ll be very sad to find out that I like the other one better. But if you like it, that’s good.”

“I knew you were tasteless.”

San slapped on his costumer service smile. “I will do my best not to insult you back on your birthday, although I am very much tempted to.” He said, dismissive.

Wooyoung finished his glass, coughing out the sudden burn in his throat which almost sent him to the devil’s bedrooms. “So far this day’s been great. I’m kinda scared.”

And San was scared too. His soulmate senses were tingling, and he didn’t know why. He wanted to go with him. “It’ll be okay. Call me if there’s anything. I’ll be at the theatre, but I’ll come running.”

Wooyoung nodded. “Hug?”

“Big hug.”

San sunk his hands underneath Wooyoung’s jacket, squeezing his waist, and rubbing his face against his shirt. “I love you.”

“How much?”

“A lot.”

“Not enough.”

“A lot more.”

“I’m disappointed, but I’ll take it.” He gave San one last tight hug, hesitantly letting him go.

While Wooyoung walked out, they reenacted the scene from the Phantom of the Opera, where Christine frees Raoul, and the phantom tells them to take the boat and to never come back. While Wooyoung descended the stairs, San sung: “Go now! Go now, and leave me!” And Wooyoung rewinded and went straight to where the phantom sung to himself “Masquerade…Paper faces on parade…Masquerade…Hide your face, so the world will never find you!”

San did this to sometimes brag about how many lines he knew by heart. And it often became a competition too, which Wooyoung never won. He’s learned the lyrics passively, from having heard San sing ‘Learn to be Lonely’ or ‘Castle on a Cloud’. But San, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with the kind of music Wooyoung listened to.

Wooyoung was most organised when it came to his music. He had playlists for everything, including one called ‘Songs that San allows me to listen to in the shower’ or ‘Songs San won’t let me listen to because he doesn’t want me to summon a demon’. While walking to the station, he put on his ‘Walking when I’m flawless’ playlist, and while he waited for the train, it hit him that he did not have a playlist for Yeosang yet. Or that Yeosang never shared music with him. He got to it right away, and that had taken the entire ride. His mind went ‘This one, and this one, and this one…This one for when we cuddle, this one for when he’s away, this one for when things get sexy…this one for when things get sexy after a long time…’ until he added thirty-seven songs. But Yeosang liked even numbers better, so he added three more songs. About two hours playtime. 

He stopped by the cafe five minutes away from the University to get his daily dose of coffee and whiskey, but he paused while looking at the menu, asking himself if he had already surpassed the daily alcohol intake Yeosang would be okay with. But he did it anyway. He went the safer way and added heavy cream.

Wooyoung picked up his coffee, moving onto the small counter besides it to add in more sugar,and when he turned around, he was met with a familiar face. “Hi there.” Heejin said. He was probably the most decent Wooyoung’s ever seen him. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. What brings you here?”

“I’ve a meeting with my future agent, but he’s stuck in traffic. Also they have the best flat white here.” Heejin observed him. The bag on his shoulder, his one headphone on, his relaxed body pose. “You don’t look like you’re in a hurry.”

“You suddenly have plans for me?”

Heejin pointed with his chin to the nearest table. “Have a seat?”

The look in his eyes was a lot friendlier than the one he’s had last time. Wooyoung wanted that day to go smoothly and was not going to let anything spoil it, not even the encounter at hand. They sat down at the table, Wooyoung leaning back when Heejin leaned forward. Heejin excused himself while he went to the bathroom, time during which Wooyoung texted San about what was happening, and when Heejin returned, Wooyoung hit the record button, and placed his phone with the screen down.

“Getting kind of tired of being portrayed as the bad guy when I have not done anything.” Heejin jumped right in, putting his carved, golden cigarette case, and his lighter, on the table.

“…Say I believe you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

“I wouldn’t be sitting at the same table as you if I did. You haven’t done anything to me personally, but I’m sure there must be a reason why people look at you the way they do.”

“Ever thought they might be lying?”

“Every single one of them?”

“Depends what they said.” 

Wooyoung parted his lips to respond, then got scared at his own realisation of how quick and close Heejin was to have him spill everything. Maybe that was exactly why he was there.

“You know. Not good things. But I have to ask you why. Why do you feel the need to tell me all this?”

“Because I want to clear my name. I don’t want you to believe what everyone says.”

“Thank you for the introduction, but I know this is about Yeosang, so please get straight to the point.”

Heejin said nothing in response. Wooyoung continued. “Why do you care so much about him?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t.”

“Yet you’re still wasting so much energy on him.”

Heejin took a long drag, flicking the cigarette over the ashtray, and exhaled the smoke through his nostrils. “I never liked it when people commit moral crimes and get away with it.”

As an instinctive reaction, Wooyoung’s eyebrows twitched in surprise. There were many other ways Heejin could have said that, and he wondered about the graveness of his next statement, since he decided to open the subject using big words.

“Why do you think Yeosang always sticks to you when you’re at the club?”

Wooyoung felt like he was in a much unfriendlier place, with tighter security, in a room that smelled of cement, where every word could be used against him.

“We’re together. It’s only normal.”

“Ever thought he’s trying to keep you away from something?”

“Just you.”

“Half correct.” Heejin paused, tapping the side of the glass with the tips of his nails, generating more suspense. “Or he’s trying to keep you from the truth.”

“And you’re about to tell me the truth.”

Heejin swirled the teaspoon into his coffee, smudging around the microfilm milk heart at the top.“We were doing rehearsals at one point, and I started talking about you. Then someone asked me ‘I dare you to ask the new guy out.’ That’s when I came to you and we had that conversation. But Yeosang doesn’t want me to have nice things, so that’s when he came in too.”

“Where are you getting at?”

“He didn’t like you is where I’m getting at. He didn’t want to date you. He went so much out of his way to draw you to his side. He didn’t like you for who you were. He liked you only because I liked you.”

Wooyoung had more comebacks for that, more than he had sips left. But he held his tongue back and took just one sip. His wittiness and sharpness were always on point. The strength of his heart, on the other hand, was fluctuant. One day he might laugh at something hurtful. The other, he could cry. That day was special, and he was sad he didn’t take the whiskey bottle with him. He was in no danger to burn from the inside, and that made him mad.

“But then I saw that you liked him for whatever reason, and I took a step back.”

“Did you, though?”

“Look, I like you. And the fact that I was getting dicked down by another guy and accidentally screamed your name is another story.”

Wooyoung never wanted to eject himself more form his seat than he did then. “…I see.”

“So I tried to keep away from you as much as I could. But my hands are naughty.”

Wooyoung nodded. “…I see. Please don’t make this about me.”

“Don’t be boring, Wooyoung.”

“I never said you could address me so informally.”

“What do you prefer? I could address you however you want.”

“Tell you what. I’m sitting here with you out of mercy. You can’t scare me. You can’t shake my ground. I’m here listening to you because I thought I could might as well give you a chance, when I could be spending much better time with Yeosang. If you want to continue the conversation, please. If you’re here to flirt, then I’m gone.”

“You’re staying with someone who doesn’t like you. I know he did all these cute, couple-y things, he called you often, just to butter you up, but I’m willing to bet he hated every second of it. I spent more time with him than you have.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he lived a sad life before. Now he’s learned how to use his charm and he’s making people flock around him and to turn them against me.”

Wooyoung looked for a very simplistic way to tell Heejin that he was not that important to Yeosang, and that he had so many other things to do in life. He also tried to find ways to tell Heejin that as much as he liked to believe Yeosang’s life centred around Heejin, it was actually the other way around. Sadly, Wooyoung knew it was wiser to say less.

“And when I talk back to him, he backs away like I killed his cat.”

Wooyoung was going to need entire minutes to forget that sentence was even thought of. “And why do you think he does that, genius?”

“He’s playing victim, Wooyoung.”

The only reason why Wooyoung tilted his head and made a gesture with his hand for him to go on was because he was aware he that he was a public place, and the subject of ‘Yeosang playing victim’ was one he did not want to tackle so lightly. He knew the truth better than anyone.

“I might have gotten the wrong message at first. But then he told me to stay away from him, and I did.” He stamped his finished cigarette in the ashtray.

“I don’t want to know what you did.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t always the angel I am today, sorry.” He shrugged. Wooyoung wanted to shove his glass down his throat. “But anyway, he came to me after you confessed to him, like ‘Oh, no, what should I do’. My mistake was that I told him I was kinda envious. He said he was unsure about giving you a chance. He thought you’d, and I quote ‘burden his career’. Then we went on that date. I told him, and he didn’t believe me. We had a…I don’t know, something of a fight. That’s when it all went down. Then he came to you to have that talk.”

Wooyoung had always been one of the few, if not the only person among the ones he knew, who was not afraid of confrontation. He would be the one initiating them too. He’d have his facts right, the series of events, and when someone would tell him ‘we need to talk’ he’d crack his knuckles and envision himself winning the argument. He was not used to not knowing the outcome of a confrontation. He was not used to not knowing everything, all the more when it involved him. He missed laughing when people would talk behind his back. 

“…I said this before, and I’ll say it to you too. I don’t care if all this is true. I don’t care if you lied. But if he’ll ever break up with me, I won’t regret anything. He’s made me the happiest I’ve ever been, and if these times will come to and end today or tomorrow, I’ll always look back to them and be thankful. He’s changed, but you’re so blinded that you can’t see that. He’s an actually good guy, and he’s got such a good heart, but you’re so consumed in ruining his life, that you didn’t stop one second to ask yourself why you did this. Yeah, true, some people just don’t click, and maybe you two are part of this category. Has Yeosang fucked up in the past? Totally. Is he going to fuck up in the future? Maybe. But we’ve all been there. We’re both learning. And you should probably start learning too…Not everything is about you, Heejin. Not everyone who’s better than you at something is coming for your neck.” Wooyoung took his phone, jacket, and shouldered his bag. “I think you’re the one who lived a sad life. Not him.” And walked out.

His paces were large and quick, wanting to walk as away from that place as he could, blending among the people. He walked to the station as if he hurried to catch the last train, and while he made his way to the platform, he went to a secluded corner and waited.

During his ride to the University, both Yeosang and San texted him. He ignored both of them, and called San as soon as he walked out.

“Hey, can you talk? Are you home?”

“I’m on my way to the theatre. Need to pick up those invitations and lanyards. What’s up?”

Wooyoung let out the longest sigh San’s ever heard, and told him everything. With as much detail as he remembered. He spoke cautiously and quietly, almost eating the microphone. “And I recorded everything.” 

“You what? Wooyoung, I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“I’m gonna delete it, I swear. I wasn’t thinking. Yeosang’s gonna think I’m lying.”

“Oh, God, just this morning we talked about going out for drinks and stuff. You barely left the house and so much already happened.”

“I don’t like it. He said Yeosang attacked him for nothing. Just for the sake of ruining his life.”

San snorted. “That don’t sound right.”

“No. It doesn't. That is definitely not true. Yeosang doesn’t bear grudges, like me. I know he keeps away from people, but he’ll never just wake up in the morning like ‘I’m gonna ruin this man’s whole career’.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t sound like he’d do that.”

“But listen, Heejin made everything sound believable. Every time he said something, I had to pause and think about Yeosang’s side of the story, and they matched pretty good. It’s scary. Like he twisted everything in his favour, and I almost felt like I should believe him.”

“But do you?”

“Some things. There is some truth in it if you squint.”

“And we all know you’re good at that.”

“Shut up. Anyway, so this is a thing I didn’t ask for today. But it happened.”

“You sound sad. What are you thinking about?”

Wooyoung laughed anxiously, biting his lip before opening his mouth to answer.

*

After his conversation his San ended, he shoved both his phone and his headphones in his pocket. No song, no matter how catchy, was able to silence the voice in his head. He was tired. But it was the kind of tiredness he never welcomed. A tiredness of people, of having to live a life, and live it well with that, and he became even more scared when he realised that not even seeing Yeosang would boost his morale.

He put on a painfully fake smile when he saw him, and his heart clenched when he saw the speed with which he hurried to hug him. Wooyoung would always be the one to start talking. To say anything to set the tone of their conversation, to kiss him and make jokes. But every part of him, besides his mind, was still back there, stations away.

Yeosang’s first red flag was Wooyoung’s silence. His second red flag was the way he clapped his palm against his back when he hugged him. He didn’t wait for the third one. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You look like you’re not feeling okay.”

Wooyoung poked his nose. “I am now.”

“…Why did you want me to come here?”

“I have something to show you.”

“But can we talk about you first?”

Wooyoung pressed the button for the elevator, and went to check his phone. They walked in, and pressed the button for the third floor. Yeosang had expected more people roaming the hallways, and those who were, were either in a hurry, or with their noses buried into whatever they were doing. Wooyoung guided him to one of the studios in the back. Yeosang’s eyes had never left Wooyoung, much too preoccupied with his state, than with the place Wooyoung was showing him. He had a quick look around, at the works of art lying around, the dried paint on the floor, the walls filled with sketches and doodles. Oddly similar to the workshop at the club. But what Yeosang liked the most about it was that it was empty. And it became his second favourite place in the world when Wooyoung embraced him and kissed him like he should have the first time. Yeosang put all of his worries into that kiss, whimpering in relief, and lacing his arms around his neck. He smiled and finally exhaled. “You scared me. I thought I did something.”

“We’ve barely met, how could you have done something?”

“I don’t know. I got worried.” And he kissed him again. Quicker. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. It is happy now.”

“I got you something.”

“…Did you.”

“Uh-huh. But first.” He laid his handbag on an empty table, out of which he stuck out a black, matte, gift bag, not very big. After which he took off his black trench coat, revealing the black, sleek, suit he wore underneath. The white shirt tucked in, and the black, silk tie.

“You really wore a white shirt in an art studio.”

“Yes, I thought you could make it look less boring.”

“I already have some ideas.”

Then, from the bag, he pulled the pièce de résistance. The headband with cat ears Wooyoung had required on his list of birthday wishes. While Wooyoung stared, Yeosang crossed his arms over his chest, back against the table. “Happy?”

“…You took me seriously.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like what you see.”

“I do, I just…I really want to pull that tie down.”

Yeosang hid his hands behind his back, shyly. “Well you’re coming over, yeah?”

Wooyoung sighed. “I am now.” He said, while Yeosang approached him with the gift bag. He received it gratefully and sat down, gently taking out the wrapped box that was inside it. A pine green, smoke themed wrapping paper, tied with a gold, velvet, ribbon. “I kind of don’t want to open it. It’s so pretty.” And Wooyoung had a point. Yeosang took the box and untied the ribbon, only opening the wrapping from the side, peeling the tape off without pulling the colour off with it. His head was tilted a little forward and to the side. His cheek was finely highlighted, his lips glistening with glittery lip balm, and the ends of his hair fell wavy down his neck. His hands were bright and smooth, nails painted in clear polish, and his fingers adorned with thin rings. The light fell over the veins from the back of his hands. Wooyoung wanted to kiss them. “You’re so beautiful.” Wooyoung breathed, right when Yeosang had finished pulling the box out without doing any damage, handing it to him.

“Thank you?”

The first thing inside the box was a set of small paintbrushes packed inside a leather scroll. They felt soft, with a gentle sheen in the light, and fully black. Next was a sketchbook with wired binding at the top, with fine, canvas paper. A small, watercolour paint set, and another one of just gold, silver, and copper paint. “…I know for a fact these weren’t cheap. Did San tell you?”

“Just about the paint. I know you always draw on the way, so I thought…I should stick to things you could easily carry with you.”

Wooyoung gave an extended amount of attention to each item individually, smiling, unsure how he was truly feeling. He picked out the small bottle of gold acrylic paint and headed to the other side of the art studio, to the last easel, where a covered painting sat. Saying nothing more, Wooyoung sat down before it, uncovered it, picked out his own set of brushes, and began.

Behind him, he heard Yeosang approaching as quietly as possible, although the flooring was old and creaked with every step. But the steps stopped suddenly, and then came a quiet gasp.

The painting before Wooyoung was of a boy in a dancer’s outfit, hanging from an aerial hoop by the back of his knees. His arms were spread, and the hoop seemed to be hanging in mid-air. The backdrop was blurry; gave the impression of a stage, but made out of smoke. The painting was fully in noncolor, and Wooyoung was currently painting a gold circlet on the boy’s forehead. Then he moved onto the hoop, going in with thin strokes, then building them together, chaotic, yet sharp.

Until they looked like fire.

Yeosang pulled his collar, having not enough room to breathe. His eyes were riveted on Wooyoung’s hand that was holding the brush, how quick and precise he worked, and how much control he had over the fire he made. Minutes had passed in which Wooyoung worked, Yeosang immortalised, and no one had dared to enter the room.

With his vision entirely focalised on the painting before him, Yeosang had not noticed the walls of sketches behind the easel Wooyoung was sitting before. A figure standing in the scorpion pose with a fire staff in between their shoulders; one on his knees, leaned all the way back, and with a flame standing above him. One sitting in a crescent moon, where both she and the boy were filled with white flowers. His forehead, his eyelashes, and feet. Vines of morning-glories wrapped around his ankles. Another one of him sleeping in the crescent moon, with less flowers on him, but the stars seemed to be pouring onto him as if bathing him. Next came one of a boy wearing a lace body suit, holding the dancing pole as if climbing it, with one arm hanging in the air, and looking somewhere in the distance. In that drawing, his hair was the messiest, and two strands of hair flew away from him too. In the sketch where the boy faced the other direction, Wooyoung drew pink petals at the boy’s temple and eyelid. He wore white in that one, and was in the middle of a back somersault on a single foot. The muscle structure was impeccable, his physique was toned, his waist and legs thin.

When Yeosang turned around, Wooyoung was still painting. He had added more detail to the boy’s jewellery, and more fire sparks around the area where the fire connected with the boy’s knees. Wooyoung dipped the paintbrush in water one last time, and finally stoop up to look at it from afar. Yeosang apologised to the world, internally, and jumped into Wooyoung’s arms. He thought he had enough strength, but Wooyoung had still hugged him tighter. He kissed Yeosang’s birthmark powerfully, although it was covered, then his hair. “I love you so much.” Wooyoung said.

“I love you more. I love you more than anything. I love you more than-” He paused to inhale, and his senses had clashed with what he felt in his heart. His chest bloomed rainbows and grew scented flowers, whereas his senses and the trigger response from his brain became dark, inhabitable, and haunted. The smell that had filled his nose did not belong on Wooyoung. It was that of tobacco and mint, that always left a bitter taste on Yeosang’s tongue. “…Why do you smell like that?”

The voice in Yeosang’s head became two, and his mind divided between one that loved Wooyoung more than life itself, and one that was determined to make him hate him. He withdrew his hands, and he looked at the window. He looked for noise. Anything that would silence the voice that wanted to hurt Wooyoung just to feel better about itself. Yeosang referred to this voice as foreign and burdening, and built on lies.

“I went to get coffee, and a bunch of people smoked there.”

Yeosang shook his head. The painting and sketches on the walls were gone. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying…And I am also not having this conversation in a public place-”

“Why were you with him, Wooyoung? This is not your scent, this is _his_ scent!”

Wooyoung balled his fists, then relaxed them. Yeosang saw. “He was there too.”

“Coincidentally?”

“Yes.”

Yeosang shook his head again. Wooyoung went to put everything where it belonged, covering the painting up and making sure the fabric won’t stick to the canvas. Then he packed his stuff, and Yeosang’s gift bag. “If you want to have this conversation now, we’re leaving.”

Yeosang adjusted his tie, wrapped himself in his coat, and took his headband off, painfully looking at it before he put it back. That small item was his indication that day was going to go well. That was not how he had planned that day to go.

Both in a moral hurry to get the discussion out of the way, and both fighting tears that menaced to spill, they agreed to take a taxi to Yeosang’s place. During the ride, they both looked out opposite windows, and let as much space as two strangers would let in between them. They sensed each other’s inner discomfort as if it was their own, and they shifted their position as if every bone and muscle hurt. They both felt the need to hug and kiss each other as much as they felt like leaving.

Wooyoung was mad at himself for not handling it the way he wanted to from the beginning. He was not scared of Heejin, or talking to him. It was Yeosang he was scared of. As soon as he saw Yeosang, and while his heart was still numb, he wanted to tell him. He wanted to stay honest. And it was all coming back. Heejin was the kind of subject that no matter how happy Yeosang was, he would not take lightly. But when he had finished telling Wooyoung all that, he knew his day was ruined, but he tried to make the best of it.

“Remember when you said you think for two?…I feel it. And you were right. It’s not nice.” He said while Yeosang unlocked the door.

He never wanted to hear that from Wooyoung. He never wanted the person he loved the most to get a glimpse of what he had to go through every day.

Yeosang kicked his shoes off, picked Ariadne up when she came to greet them, and pet her to distract her from sensing his distress. Wooyoung was the one who aligned their shoes nicely. “This isn’t how today was supposed to go. I wanted to do things. I had plans.” He said, almost to himself, or to Ari, while walking around in the living room.

They sat in frond of each other, with Wooyoung’s phone in between them. He turned it towards Yeosang. “I recorded the whole thing. Do you want me to tell you, or do you want to listen?”

“…Why would you record it?”

“You’re not gonna like the answer.”

“Tell me.”

“For the same reason as earlier. When I told you the truth, you said ‘You’re lying’. When I wasn’t lying. I knew no matter what I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“I would have!”

“You’re lying. You’re lying, and we both know that. So do you want to listen, or do you want me to tell you?”

Yeosang’s eyes were cloaked in fear, and if he wasn’t holding Ari, he would have probably shielded his ears. “You can tell me.”

Wooyoung nodded, having the recording ready as a backup. “He started off the convo saying something like him not liking it when people commit moral crimes and get away with it. And that he’s tired of being the bad guy when he’s innocent.” Yeosang squeezed Ariadne breathless for a second, but then she jumped off and went to lie on the floor. “And then he told me about that day when you were at rehearsals. He said it was him whom someone dared to ask me out or something. So then he came to the workshop.”

“That is not true. That is so not true! That’s not how it happened. It was me they asked, because they saw how you always hung around in my room. I came in because the thing he said was exactly what I was worried about.”

Wooyoung nodded. “…I believe you. You told me about this before.”

“What else did he say?”

Wooyoung remembered, almost word by word, but the statements themselves were not the kind he ever wanted to say, not even when paraphrasing. So he took his phone and looked for the part:

_He didn’t like you is where I’m getting at. He didn’t want to date you. He went so much out of his way to draw you to his side. He didn’t like you for who you were. He liked you only because I liked you._

Too stunned at the series of statements, Yeosang forgot to pause. Wooyoung did it for him. Yeosang scratched the back of his wrist until it became red. Wooyoung snatched his hand and kissed him over and over again over the scratch marks. “…Do you believe him?” Yeosang whispered in fear, turning his hand around for Wooyoung to kiss his fingers.

“I think there’s some truth to it. I don’t believe the entire thing.”

“…Woo,”

“I’m sorry.”

Yeosang’s hand fell soft and safe within Wooyoung’s. “I’m sorry too.”

Wooyoung’s lips twitched upwards. He nodded once. “I know you didn’t like me from the start. In fact…I’m sorry, but I’m not sure when you fell in love with me. I know when you felt safe enough to have me around.” He swallowed. The lump in his neck was restricting the flow of his voice. And so were the tears in his eyes. “But I was never mad at you for that. I never blamed you. Because I loved you anyway. And I didn’t care.”

“Please, please, don’t cry, I’ll cry too-”

“And I don’t care what happened in the past. I’ve said this so many times before, I’m fucking tired. I don’t care what happened before we’ve met. I don’t care about other people. I only care about you and about what they did to you.” Wooyoung looked at their hands lying together rather than him in the eyes. “And I don’t care that you didn’t love me not even half as long as I loved you…because now you do. I feel it. I know you love me now. I feel loved.”

“You are.”

“I know.”

“And I’m trying to make things okay.”

“I know. You’ve come so far, and I’m proud.”

Yeosang turned their hands around, so he can hold Wooyoung’s, as badly as it was trembling. Wooyoung wanted to pause the conversation to comfort him, but he saw that Yeosang was trying to collect himself to speak. “I really hate myself for it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t thinking at all. I dreaded the idea of you being on his side so much, that I-” He choked out the last word, the first grey stained tear fell. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” Wooyoung couldn’t say anything yet. He was used to saying it was okay, no matter what Yeosang apologised for, but in that context, he felt like it wasn’t entirely. “You took care of me, and you liked me as a person, and you were so, so good to me, and I- I don’t why I did that.”

“…I think you do.”

“But it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. No one else mattered, but I was so mad. I was so filled with rage over nothing. I’m so sorry.”

Wooyoung bit the walls of his cheeks. “It’s okay.”

“But I’ve learned. I know what I did wrong, and I won’t do it again…Because you taught me…You taught me so much.”

“I think you knew. But you were held back because of…obvious reasons.”

Yeosang stood up to bring his tissue box, gently dabbing away at the almost dried tears. In all of his pent-up frustration and anxiety, Wooyoung still found him gorgeous. “I fell in love with you when you said that thing to Hongjoong hyung when you encouraged them…And I fell in love more when you came to see me that night, because I- I thought…no one would ever do that for me, no one’s ever fucking done that for me,” Wooyoung would have gladly listened if his brain hadn’t short circuited at how Yeosang sounded when he cursed. “And I fell in love even worse so many times after.”

“…Me too.”

“But just because of that…You don’t have to say ‘it’s okay’ to everything.”

“What else do you want me to say? To tell you ‘it’s not okay’, and then have it escalate into a fight, and have you lash out at me, and both of us crying and being mad and ruining this day and relationship? I won’t do that. You know what you did wrong, and that’s enough.”

Yeosang propped his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers tightly, the veins on his hands becoming more prominent. He was set to prove Wooyoung wrong, and see the conversation freely to the end with no hurtful words. “What else did he say?”

Wooyoung had the intention to take the phone and continue playing the recording, but he decided not to, because of certain things Heejin had said that did not have their place in their conversation. Wooyoung remembered most of it, but his mind would almost never let bad moments and memories reside. His mind had his own purification system, so before he forgot it all, he took a deep breath. “Was I really a burden to you? To your career?”

Yeosang quirked his eyebrow. “He said that to you?”

“Answer me.”

“No. You never were. You made it better. You made everything much easier for me.”

Wooyoung thought so too, because Yeosang was never good at hiding his dislike. Yeosang gravitated towards him when he was nervous more than Wooyoung could comfort him. But he never failed to do so. “…He said you went to him after I confessed. And that you only came to talk to me to make up because you knew it hurt him.”

“Oh. That…I thought a relationship would slow me down…Not you as a person. You gave me no reason to think that.”

Wooyoung nodded. He was tired. His tongue was tired of asking questions, and his brain was even more tired of remembering.

“You don’t believe me?”

Again, Wooyoung nodded.

“I’m gonna hate myself for saying this, and I can’t believe I am, but you scare me so much when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re done with me.”

Wooyoung let out a short puff of air out from his nose, to express amusement. “I don’t care what you say, but I’m more scared of losing you than you are of losing me.”

“That is not true.”

“That is very true.”

“You have people to go back to, I don’t!”

“I have no one to go back to, what are you talking about?!”

“You’d have your second fucking date with Heejin, I don’t know!”

“…Is that the kind of person you take me for…”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Then why did you say it?”

“I don’t fucking know, I was projecting my fears onto you. I don’t know.”

“And how long are you going to do this for?”

“Soon. I'll stop. I hope. Now that we’re talking. Now that you know almost everything. I want to stop, I hope I will. This isn’t me.”

“I don’t think you will.”

“…So much for being encouraging.”

“Sorry, I can’t encourage you when I know the second I mention Heejin, you put him above me.”

“How can you say that?”

“Have you ever asked me how I feel in this situation? Or to stop and consider how childish all of this is? Have you ever asked me about what I said to him? What my responses to him were? No, you didn’t. All he did was to keep me there and convince me of things just to clear his name, and to flirt with me, and make you the bad guy. All you do is to try to clear your name, but have you ever tried to tell Heejin to stay the fuck out of this relationship? I bet you haven’t.”

Yeosang stood up, mouth opened wide to protest. “I have! I-”

“I think we need some time alone.”

At a sudden loss of balance, Yeosang’s knees buckled, and he took a step back. He was sure Wooyoung was going to change his mind, to say he blurted that out on impulse. Then Yeosang waited for him to give him a hug and bring the initiative to make up. “…Alone?” Yeosang forgot what time alone was. In every stage of his life, time alone meant something different. Time alone was him coming home to his cat and his empty house, which always made him feel sorry for himself. “How long?” But now, the only time alone he wanted to have was time alone with Wooyoung. In the same room, one drawing while the other read, or both ignoring each other’s presence, but never physically alone. The time alone Yeosang never wanted was the one when Wooyoung left his place, or when he got off the train. Moments in which he’d feel lonely and scared at the unpredictability of his own mind.

“I don’t know, I’m going out.”

Words were stuck within Yeosang’s throat like a pill swallowed the wrong way. The only thing he found less difficult to say were apologies, but he had already used the same one an embarrassing amount of times. He stood in the doorway, eyes down on Wooyoung’s shadow while he put his shoes on. Although his bag was still in the living room as testimony that he’ll return, it became too painfully real. ‘Have you ever asked me how I feel in this situation?’ reverberated in his head until two voices became three.

With the corner of his eye, he saw Wooyoung looking at him while pocketing his phone and wallet, and putting his jacket on. But not in a way that he was worried. He looked at Yeosang like Yeosang looked at him when he did not feel like talking, and he expected Wooyoung to guess.

Wooyoung looked at him like he wanted to be stopped. Cared for. Asked where he was going, whom was he going with, and when he’ll come back. In Yeosang’s book, these were _okay_ questions to ask, and were bare minimum of expression that one cared about the other. But the accusations he had made earlier whirled over his head like stale incense, as if someone was casting a spell on him. One telling him he had no right to care about Wooyoung when he had hurt him so, and ask about his whereabouts when he had a reputation of being jealous.

He was free to go. Free to have fun with anyone who wasn’t him, Yeosang thought.

“You’re gonna drink?” He managed, scared of his own voice.

“Yeah.” Although he had entrusted Yeosang to never let him drink without him.

But he wanted time alone. “Call me if…anything,” Yeosang mumbled when Wooyoung headed towards the door. The first time he looked up was when there was no more shadow he could look at. He had caught a glimpse of Wooyoung’s golden hair before he closed the door. Yeosang’s back hit the wall, and sled down until he hit the floor. The corners of his eyes stung from having not blinked in a while. He waited by the door, his hope decreasing with every stair Wooyoung descended, and had gone to zero when he heard the front door slam shut.

Yeosang threw his tie, shirt, and trousers on the couch, went to his room to lie down, but as he did, he noticed Wooyoung’s sketchbook. He held it in his hands like he held a gift, walking his finger over the black cover. He opened it from the end, ripped as many empty pages as he could grasp, and from inside his drawer, he took a lighter.

He locked himself in the bathroom. Lights off. And crawled into the bathtub, with the papers in his right hand, and the lighter in his left. He rubbed the papers in his hand until they became warm. He took the first sheet, and flicked his finger over the spark wheel. From a corner, he watched the empty page burn, how the blue trace of fire left black in its passing, the corners curling up as they turned to ash, and they fell on his naked leg. He flicked the paper in the air when the fire would come close to his hand, and he took the second sheet. Then the third and fourth came together. The fifth and sixth. He wished fire burned slower. He wished fire was his hourglass.

He patted around the tub for the next sheet to burn, and dropped the lighter in his hand when there was nothing left. Taking a heap of paper ashes in his palm, he ignited the fire and leaned the lighter over it. Disappointed with the lack of show, Yeosang threw the ashes away, and played with the lighter. Lighting it up, blowing the fire out, hovering his finger over the flame, pretending to poke it, or just staring at it. The flame was white, outlined with yellow, brightest at the tip. Very much like Wooyoung’s hair. Yeosang put the lighter away, took the folded towel and placed it under his head. Beneath his legs, ashes were rustling, but in his head, what that translated as was the soft sound Wooyoung’s hair made when being pat, and his tired moans when the spot was right.

Yeosang hugged himself tightly and closed his eyes. The best things happened behind his eyelids. Soon, he heard Ari meowing from the living room, then from the kitchen, then his room. Yeosang sighed, and pulled himself up. He wiped away all the ashes stuck to his skin, and opened the door, smiling at the way Ariadne’s ears perked up when she saw him. She ran towards him, with her fore paws up in demand to be picked up. Yeosang held her over his shoulder, kissing her fur, smiling even more when she’d purr under his hand.

In the living room, his phone was flooded with messages from people who knew about his plans for Wooyoung’s birthday. All written in caps lock, with so many hearts and question marks. They all expected a good outcome. The only one he replied to was Seonghwa, who sent him the calmest message. Yeosang told him the truth.

While slow music played from his speaker at low volume, he did all the house chores he did not have time for that morning. He shut his brain down when he threw away the packaging from the candles. And even more when he saw Wooyoung’s birthday cupcakes forgotten in his fridge. He left it all behind, along with his need to cry, and moved on to laundry. That went well too, until he had to fold Wooyoung’s plain black shirt. In his hands, it felt as soft as Wooyoung’s skin, and although it had been freshly washed, Yeosang felt something of a placebo effect, and to him, it still smelled like it was meant to. He pulled it on, exhaling heavily at how it fell on his shoulders. He gave up on doing laundry, collected Ari in his arms, and went to bed. She rubbed her cheek against his, then lovingly licked the bridge of his nose while hugging his head. Ariadne had a demure personality, and had always kept her affectionate side for when Yeosang needed the most. She saw he did not have energy, so she brought her toys to the bed, and pushed them onto Yeosang’s face until he played with her. She brought him her cat wand, and Yeosang lazily held it in the air for her to jump and catch it. When he closed his eyes, Ari climbed over him, and started making biscuits on his shoulder. When she had enough of that, she curled up into a ball under Yeosang’s arm and tried to fall asleep. Yeosang kissed her good night and closed his eyes back too. He could not fall asleep in that position, but he loved Ari too much to move. He took his phone, typed in a long message, then he decided to reply to everyone else.

As he wanted to hit send, he had an incoming call from San. Within the two seconds and a half while he thought about whether he should answer or not, he already made a couple of scenarios in his head. They were al progressively getting worse. “Hi, you on your way?”

“I- I was almost asleep?”

“You’re not with Wooyoung?”

“…No?”

“Okay. You have to promise me not to panic-”

“Where is he?”

“I just told you not to panic.”

“Tell me where he is.”

Putting the phone on speaker, Yeosang dragged himself out of the bed without startling the cat, and went to put his jeans on. From San’s side, he heard the sound of cars passing, and people talking somewhere close to him. “So the plan was for us to meet at the usual place…He called me and I asked him if you’re both coming. He said yes. Now I’m not sure if he heard me or not, because wherever he was, it was loud as fuck. But I’m here. And he’s not.”

“Tell me where you are and I’ll be there.”

San sent him his location, and they hung up right away. Now that Yeosang opened the cursing floodgates, he did not hesitate to toss one cuss word here and there at the slightest inconvenience, like when he broke a nail trying to open Ariadne’s treat box. “I’m gonna go pick daddy up. I’ll be back soon, okay?” He kissed her head, and put her down to distract her with food while he ran outside.

*

“…So, basically, you both resorted to hurting each other because you have no self control, and you also wanted the other to prove you wrong.”

“You have all the rights to be mad at me.”

San shook his head. “I’m mad at both of you. I know he gets mad easily, but he sulks for attention and then he plays it off. But you…You do that one thing that ticks him off the most. And I guess that’s what prompted to just fuck off. I say that because he’s done something similar with Jaewon.”

Yeosang grasped the keys in his pocket, clenching his teeth when the key cuts would bite indents into his palm. “Do I remind him of him?”

“I don’t think so. But he’s seen some things.” San winded his arm around Yeosang’s shoulder. “Nothing a talk can’t fix.”

“A talk didn’t fix anything today.”

“Well then you need a second talk to fix this one.”

“But do you know where he is?”

“He couldn’t have gotten far. He’s probably crying in some corner. Oh, yeah, almost forgot.” San said, holding Yeosang’s hand up while he put on his red wristband. “Won’t let you in without one.”

“…I take it you frequent this place a lot.”

San clicked his tongue. “He does. I just tag along when he’s begging me.”

A nod. “…So do we go in?”

“Actually,” San scratched his neck, looking at the ground, but more towards Yeosang. “I’ve been meaning to ask if we’re okay."

“Huh?”

“You and I?”

“Um, yeah? We are. Did something happen? Did I do something? I’m sorry.”

“No, you didn’t.” San touched Yeosang’s arms, squeezing reassuringly. “I just wanted to make sure. We’re still friends, yeah?”

To Yeosang’s knowledge, they were. San was on the list of people he’d give up on naps for. He was kind and impartial when it came to Yeosang and Wooyoung, and that was something to be appreciated. Yeosang remembered San was the one with the initiative to have some time alone and bond. He was the one who opened up to and cried in Yeosang’s arms first. And last but not least, the one who said ‘I want a boyfriend like you’. Something that haunted Yeosang since day one.

“Yeah, but why? Did Wooyoung say something?”

“No. He didn’t. I just wanted to know if you still like me. Because I like you.”

“…I like you too-”

“And I- I don’t know. Like —Ah, how do I say this…I don’t want us to be like…this…best friend and boyfriend thing, and to, um, be like…Like not cool with each other. Because I thought it was gonna…make things awkward.” San clenched his jaw. “I don’t want us to have a Hera and Leto and Zeus type of situation.”

“A what?”

“I mean, you know how Zeus’ been fuckin’ around, and Hera was not cool with it, obviously, and she was like ‘You can’t give birth literally anywhere’.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Because Leto had a baby with Zeus, and Hera was mad because everyone loves messing with the gods.”

“Wait, who’s messing- Wh…What’s with the baby? I’m- Huh?”

“Jealousy, Yeosang! It’s because of jealousy! Hera was jealous! That was the point I was trying to make!…A jealousy type of situation.”

“…You were jealous?”

“M-Maybe.”

“Oh, me too.” No one, not even himself, expected him to admit that so easily.

“You were?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know.”

Yeosang shrugged. He’s become an expert on repressing things by then. “But it’s okay now.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“…Yeah.”

“Please don’t hesitate. If it’s not okay, you can tell me. You’re cool and you’re kind and you’re taking care of Wooyoung so well, and I’m happy for both of you, and Wooyoung really loves you!”

“He loves you too. A lot. We’re friends, and everything’s fine, and I like you. I promise.” Yeosang held both of his hands. “Nothing’s awkward.”

San made a sound similar to a puppy’s whine, and hugged Yeosang like he’d hug family. “I’m glad. I’m so glad.”

Yeosang nodded, vigorously patting San’s back.

“Okay, we can go now. I’m happy again.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” San smiled. He took Yeosang’s hand again and leaded the way.

They turned around the corner, and both stopped in their steps when, even from that distance,the sound of electric guitars shook the windows. San pushed Yeosang in front of him, and walked half a step behind. “Sorry, that type of music is just too intimidating for me.” 

“It’s okay.” Yeosang said, opening the door. On the other side of it was a massive guy with long hair who demanded to show their wristbands, but who smiled angelically when Yeosang smiled at him. From there was a short hallway fully illuminated in red, and from there came a set of stairs leading to where the music was coming from. The wall was bedecked with neon signs and foreign number plates, shirts coated in spray paint, as well as some with the name of the club.

Upstairs was a bar with every seat occupied, and rows of tables filled with people. On the other end was a small stage where a drum kit was being set up. The ceiling was covered in a wallpaper of vintage postage stamps, navy blue coloured, and electric guitars were displayed on the reclaimed wood walls. A symphonic rock song played from the speakers, loud enough for people to have to raise their voices.

At the club, Yeosang’s met a fair amount of people who belonged to different groups or subcultures, and he’s learned a lot more about popular tattoos in the 50s than he’s ever wanted to know. But then he found himself in a crowd of people whom he stood out from, although his dark clothing was blending with theirs. He didn’t like it, but for San’s sake, he held his chin high and acted like an older brother.

“I’ll go ask around.” San said, tapping Yeosang’s shoulder, breaking his confidence in the process. Most people were in their pairs or groups, busy talking, but Yeosang did notice some pointing at him as he walked past. He went behind the bar where the bathrooms and the smoking hall was, searching around for familiar faces. Besides several not bad looking individuals who winked at him, nobody minded him. Except after he returned from searching that side of the club, when someone grasped him by the shirt, almost cutting his breath, and kissing him hard like they had the right to. Yeosang groaned and sunk his nails in the other guy’s shirt, and pushed him until his entire body banged against the opposite wall.

Yeosang slapped his mouth. “Wooyoung. Oh, God.” He touched his own chest, his heart racing.

“I tried to fuckin’ kiss you! Fuck’s your problem?”

“You scared the living fuck out of me, that’s my problem! Get up.”

“What the fuck is going on in here on this day?” San said, eyes switching between the two like a tennis ball, unsure whom to be more concerned for. “Why do you look like you just saw a ghost? And why the fuck are you on the floor?”

“I panicked and I pushed him.”

Wooyoung swept his hair back, and laughed at his failed attempts to stand up. His eyes were red like he had popped a vein. Between his fingers he had something like a cigarette, but entirely brown coloured. “…Hol’up I think I just had a concussion.”

“You didn’t. Come on. Did you drink?”

“…Not enough.” He held the blunt between his teeth, and with San’s help, he got back up on his feet.

“So what’s the plan? Are we going, or…” Yeosang said to San, quiet enough for Wooyoung not to hear on the other side.

“Let’s just walk around. It’s gonna be more difficult to drag him home.” The he turned his head back around to Wooyoung. “Dickhead, we’re- Are you crying?!”

“No, fuck off.” 

“Why are you crying?”

“Yeosang hates me.”

“…He’s literally here, you fuckwad.”

“Yeah, but he hates me! Because he pushed me, and yelled at me, and he called me by my full name! He never calls me by my full name! He hates me. I miss having a boyfriend. It was good while it lasted.”

“I don’t hate you, Woo.”

“…I can still hear him sometimes.”

*

“A’ight, I’m listening.”

San sat Wooyoung down on a bench near the park entrance. Yeosang rubbed his back while holding his hand. San had been scolding him all the way there, and all Wooyoung did was to curse him in exchange.

“What?”

Wooyoung felt his head heavy to keep on his shoulders. His eyes burned, and he felt too hot underneath his jacket. He lied down on the bench, with his head on Yeosang’s lap.  
“You wanna tell me why I didn’t find you there? And why you didn’t answer your phone?”

“I was there. But then I met someone. We smoked weed together, and I lost track of time. I didn’t hear the phone.”

“We both called you. Like five times each.”

“I didn’t hear it.”

“You wanna tell us why you’re mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

Yeosang held Wooyoung’s face still and kissed him. “Don’t fight him. You had us both scared.”

“But I’m not mad.” Wooyoung sulked, bending his knees, and tapping the soles of his boots on the wood, sneaking his hands down his pockets. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at me. Because I made you both mad. We’re all mad at each other. And you’re mad at each other because I made you mad. Because I’m a bad friend and boyfriend and lover. I’m a bad person. And I made you worry. And I was a dickhead.”

“Yeah, well, can’t deny the last part.” San mumbled in his fist while looking the other way.

“San.” Yeosang cautioned, his eyebrows furrowed. Then returned to giving Wooyoung head pats. “We’re not mad at each other. It’s okay. We wouldn’t be here if we were.”

Wooyoung held back, then lifted himself up. He waited for seconds to pass, while he considered, then he groaned in frustration, took both San and Yeosang by their hands until they both clashed with his chest, holding them both as closely as his drunk arms could. “Fuck you both. I love you.”

“We love you too.” Yeosang said.

“Please don’t speak in my name.” San rebutted.

“…San.” Yeosang scolded again.

After laughing in the brattiest way he could, San was the first to break out of the group hug. “I should take you both home.” His tone was soft, finally at peace. “Or do you wanna stay?”

“There was a local band playing tonight. But you’re both tasteless and you won’t come with.”

Yeosang sighed. “…I’ll stay.”

“I know you don’t want to.”

“No. But it’s still your birthday. And I want to be here with you. Even though you just called me…tasteless, although my taste in everything is luxury compared to yours.” He jerked his head to face San.“You can come over too after. I’ve some drinks. And birthday cupcakes. And a cat.”

“I don’t think I-”

“Her name is Ariadne.”

“…Please.”

*

They went home half deaf, and with twice as much energy. Wooyoung at least. He was the only one who went up to the stage, sung the lyrics, carried some girl on his shoulders who couldn’t see, made like three friends during a single song, and came back to the table wit seven types of cigarettes and a sticker set. Yeosang oscillated between not losing Wooyoung from his eyesight, concentrating on the music and trying his utmost to like it for his lover’s sake, and trying to keep San alive next to him. San had given up a long time ago. Yeosang had to stop him from anxious messaging Jongho. After the concert, Wooyoung lugged his new friends to their table to show them how he has the most beautiful best friend and soulmate and boyfriend and lover and twin flame in the whole world. Wooyoung had never introduced them by their names, only by their titles.

It was a full night.

San and Wooyoung had the sudden idea to speak in rhymes, and from there it escalated into a rap battle. Yeosang was on duty to apologise for the inconvenience to everyone who crossed paths with them and was mildly disturbed.

It fell on Yeosang once again to ration Wooyoung’s alcohol intake, so he served him whiskey from a teacup while San danced around the room with the bottle to his arm, and Ariadne in the other. Throughout the night, he had not stopped complementing her. “You are the second most beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, exquisite, charming, sublime, wonderful, divine, elegant, beauteous creature I have ever seen. You are my queen, and I am your servant. You are my Cretan Princess, and I am at your feet.” After which Ari put her paw on San’s hand. And San kissed it. Yeosang realised San had said ‘second’ and from there a fight erupted about how Ariadne is not second in anything. Yeosang thought he had won the fight, until San showed him a picture of his own cat named Star, and Yeosang’s heart dropped. Wooyoung did not want to be in between two cat dads, so he slithered into the bedroom and called it a night. Yeosang and San retreated to the kitchen, consuming all of the remaining snacks while watching the stars. San opened up about Wooyoung’s ex, and Yeosang opened up about Heejin. On accident, San also told him about Wooyoung’s plans to move out next year, but he did not know how or where. Wooyoung had not told Yeosang enough, but he felt the need to bring it up with the first occasion.

Yeosang had always thought his life had peaked. Having reached a point in life where he was independent, free, and happy, he had not really thought about the future. Besides moving out and travelling.

Wooyoung had woken up shortly to pay a visit to the bathroom as he was feeling sick. When he made his way there, he saw the paper ashes in the bathroom. His sickness had gotten worse with the worry. He walked out of the bathroom with an even emptier stomach, and a heap of ashes in his hands. He threw them away right under Yeosang’s eyes, whose cheeks had turned ivory. Wooyoung said “I know” and moved on from it, and closed the subject with demanding water and painkillers, but instead of his second requirement, San had the idea to go watch the sunrise together, sensing the awkwardness between the two. So they wrapped up and headed out in the near winter, on the rooftop. San cuddled them both and kissed their heads while making his wish. With the first full sun ray out, he let out the loudest yawn, and announced that he’ll head home too to get his two hours of sleep. They walked San to the station, then headed back slowly while holding hands. Neither of them said anything, but caressed and warmed each other’s hand up in a way that made words redundant.

Back in their bedroom, they stripped each other of their clothing, like it was a ritual they had both soundlessly agreed to, kissing their ways down on each other’s bodies. “…I left because I wanted you to look for me.” Wooyoung confessed, when Yeosang’s lips had just reached his stomach.He looked the other way, opposite from the lamplight, like the dark could conceal his guilt. “So fucking childish.” But Yeosang’s eyes had ever stop pouring love all over and into Wooyoung from the moment his back hit the bed.

“I get that. But we worried.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left like that. And for not considering how you felt…I didn’t ask you if you needed time alone.”

“…And I’m sorry for not asking how you felt when we talked. I was desperate. And scared.” Yeosang spoke warmly, his lips were brushing against the tips of Wooyoung’s hair. He kissed him at the end of each sentence. Wooyoung smiled throughout, taking Yeosang’s arm and wrapping it tighter around him. “I’m scared of losing you too. Just as much as you are.”

“Wow, we really have a lot of stuff to fix, huh.”

With a sleepy smile on, Yeosang crawled back over Wooyoung, giving him the gentlest and longest good night kiss he’s ever given him. “Tomorrow.” He said, kissing him several more times, and giggling into each of them, mumbling how he couldn’t stop. But Wooyoung never told him to stop.

They set their phones on flight mode, drew the curtains closed, and went to sleep, with Yeosang as the big spoon, Wooyoung as the little spoon, and Ariadne as the teaspoon.

But before Yeosang fell asleep completely, he took a screenshot of his message, and sent it to Wooyoung to give him something to wake up to.

*

To: Heejin

Hi. Wooyoung told me you met today. We had a long discussion about the things you said to him. I’m not proud of them, but I don’t hate myself for doing them either. I was blessed enough to meet someone who forgave me for doing something that no one else should have done. Yes, we did have a fight over it, but it was a good one. We were both honest.

I only wished you remained honest until the end. I wished you stayed transparent, and tell him about how this whole thing started. You should have told him about the fight you had with Yunho hyung when you refused to perform*. You should have told him about the private shows you offered the clients, when hyung made it clear they were banned, and how you cursed me and called me names when I tried to stop you. You claimed that I did everything for the spotlight**. You should have told him about the time you drank and you barged into my room saying that every night you pray for me to have the most painful death. And the time you drank again and you laid your hands on me, and I had to kick you off me. I bet you didn’t tell him all this.

I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. You’re not my rival, or enemy, but you’re not my friend either.

You don’t scare me anymore, and you can’t shake my ground.

I am honoured that you spent so much time thinking about me and my life instead of living your own. I’m glad you somehow made me latch onto your brain. And I hope it will hurt you more knowing that I’m happy, and you’re not.

You don’t deserve Wooyoung.

I won’t tell you to leave us alone, because I’m not like you, so I won’t dictate you how to live your life. Instead I’ll tell you that if you keep meddling in, you’ll be less happy.

*All because I got more numbers than you, and you thought going on a ‘performing strike’ would work in your favour. Not my fault I’m more theatrically versatile than you.

**I didn’t do anything for the spotlight, and I still got it. Think about this before you go to bed.

*

Two numbers, three rehearsals, and one interview was Yeosang’s schedule for the next working day. He did not expect (or want) his ‘Titanium Blossoming’ to gain any attention from the media. Although he wanted the interview to be as short as possible, and, preferably through the phone, Yunho pushed him to do it in order to promote the club and spread the news about the auditions. The questions were too simple and unchallenging for his taste, but one that had stuck with him was ‘Why did you choose that name for your performance?’.

“It has a secret meaning.”

Wooyoung was stuck in his workshop, dealing with new orders of fabrics and supplies, and drawing during his lunch break. Time had passed to fast that day, that if Hongjoong hadn’t been gathering their stuff, Wooyoung wouldn’t have known. When he went to pick Yeosang up, he found him sleeping on his couch with his makeup on, half naked, and with Wooyoung’s jacket as a blanket. Wooyoung kissed him awake, dressed him up with Yeosang’s explicit accord, and took him home.

He pampered and kissed and tucked him in. Drew him a bath with his favourite floral bath bomb, brought him tea in the bath, kissed his hand for minutes on end, and carried him in his arms to the bed while Yeosang started mumbling in pout. Wooyoung didn’t understand anything, but he agreed. Then he started singing. His eyes were closed, his mouth was barely opened, and only he knew what language he was singing in. Wooyoung had to hush him to sleep. When he canted down to kiss him, Yeosang embraced him, and he giggled. He didn’t kiss him back, just held their lips together while he laughed himself to sleep.

“Did you know,” He asked, when he took Wooyoung’s face between his hands and held him above him. “I mean- Do you know…what ‘Titanium Blossoming’ means?”

“I was waiting for you to tell me the secret meaning.”

Yeosang’s arms fell down to his sides, and from there he gathered them on his chest. His cheeks were rosy from the bath, and his hair resembled a poodle’s fur. “…Titanium has the second highest melting point. And you can find it on the moon. And stars. And sun. And in the human body too.”

Wooyoung nodded, caressing his squishy cheek. “Why did you go for the second?”

Yeosang clasped Wooyoung’s hand between his like he had caught a mosquito, and laughed at his reaction. He lied his hand all over his face, the heel of his palm right over his mouth. Wooyoung watched him manifest himself. Yeosang lifted his hand off his face, traced the lines with his pinkie finger, then kissed his palm, each time more slower. Wooyoung swallowed.

“I’ll save that first place for someone who deserves to burn for longer.”

Wooyoung smiled and watched him proudly. “I knew there was something I liked about it.” Kissing his forehead and snuggling him to his chest. “Your mind, baby. Your mind. I love it.”

“Yours too.”

Wooyoung covered him all the way up, and gathered all the cushions and pillows around him, like a small fort. “Nap time.” And leaned in to brush their noses together.

“…Nap time.”

Wooyoung left the door halfway open and went back to the living room, put only one headphone on and the music on low volume, and went back to his drawing. He spun the stylus in his hand, and from her little bed, Ari was softly wagging her tail, impressed by the fancy white stick. She stood up, jumped on the couch, and Wooyoung gave her the stylus to sniff. She patted it with her paw and softly bit it without leaving marks behind, but after that, she lost interest. She placed her paw on the tablet’s screen, as she tried to climb over Wooyoung, giving him a heart attack, but fortunately all she did was to draw a stroke which Wooyoung could undo. Ari climbed over his lap, searching for a comfortable position to sleep in, even if it meant distorting Wooyoung so that he wouldn’t be able to draw anymore. In the end she fell asleep sprawled over his legs, on her stomach.

There was a digital clock somewhere on his left, and Wooyoung could swear that the past three times he checked it, it showed the same hour and minute. He would remove his headphone in a slight panic each time he’d hear shuffling sounds from the other room, ready to rush over in case Yeosang was having a nightmare, but it turned out that he was just tossing and turning.

Thirty minutes later into his drawing, he softly pat Ari’s head to signal her to wake up, and she gave him the angriest look a cat could pull off. Wooyoung scratched her chin as an apology, and when he went to the kitchen to fetch himself the wine bottle, he stole some treats for her too.

Drinking the wine straight from the bottle, he sat by the window and stargazed. In moments like those he believed that there was someone up there who really wanted to give him supernatural abilities. When he would be full of motivation and energy even after being awake for more than fifteen hours, he thought someone might have sprinkled a divine gift over him. Was it Selene, whom he never hesitated to roast because of her poor decision making? Zeus, whom San compared himself to in terms of who was a bigger ho? Or Artemis, the single and most solid proof Wooyoung ever needed to know she was there because of how much she loved and cherished Yeosang. Artemis: moon and stars and the liberty of the soul, whose bow was the crescent moon and arrows were the meteorites. Or maybe it was someone who could manipulate the time and wanted Wooyoung to be no slave to the passing of it.

With each sip of wine he became more awake and he seemed to connect with reality and the present on such a personal level, that he felt like being responsible and productive.

He opened his laptop and opened the link where students paid their tuitions on, because he suddenly wanted to be the one who pays his fees two weeks before the deadline. If only he was that ambitious when it came to his assignments as well. He proudly stuck his card out of his wallet, ready to pay the hell out of the fee and immediately call his mom to tell her how proud he was of himself. But when he input his account details and opened his page, he saw that his tuition had already been paid. The card fell from his hand, and he even removed his glasses to see if he saw that right. He hovered the cursor over the words as if he could not understand them, and although that was amazing news, he could not help but panic. The first thing that came to his mind was that his mom paid it as a birthday gift, but when he downloaded and opened the statement, he saw the bank details not matching his or his mom’s.

He read a row lower, and all the blood drained from his face, and later, stomach. He held his palm over his mouth like he wanted to throw up, read the name again several times like he suddenly forgot how to read, closed his laptop, set it aside, and proceeded to collect himself in silence. Both the wine and Artemis had forsook him.

A part of him wanted to cry, another was grateful, and the third and last one was filled with rage. The after taste of wine on his tongue started to feel old and rotten, and although the room was warm, his extremities were freezing, and his heart seemed to pretend to run a marathon.

He stood up at once, with a desperate need in him to be next to Yeosang, even if it meant not touching him, but he settled for walking around the room with Ari keeping an eye on him while his rational and irrational sides quarrelled. He diverted his attention from the matter by playing games, but then he could not take it anymore and spammed San with messages. They were both just as shocked, and Wooyoung sent him a picture of the statement to make sure he was seeing right. Wooyoung was on the verge of crying, and San was in the mood for making sugar daddy jokes. But then he became serious and offered advice on how to deal with it. Which was basically nothing besides to show gratitude and return the kindness.

The next time he heard sounds of shuffling, he did not let them bother him, as he was busy writing San a long message, enough to fit into his screen, about how he was heartbeats away from proposing and eloping while he was at it, and San made another joke in which he said to ask Yeosang the big question next time he sees him. Wooyoung played along and agreed.

“Woo?”

He whipped his head towards the doorway and set his phone screen down.

There was no sliver of doubt in his head that there was no divine entity watching over him.

“Baby,” Wooyoung opened his arm to welcome him.

Yeosang rubbed his eyes as he dragged his feet over, and swept his hair back away from his forehead, but he only made the curls in his hair more visible. He had put his fluffy bathrobe on and he appeared to have tossed his socks away in his sleep like he did every time. He climbed into Wooyoung’s lap like it was softer and comfier than his bed, and placed his cheek on his shoulder, rubbing it against his shirt as if he nuzzled to it. He groaned softly, but pleased while he was comfortable, with his legs completely wrapped around Wooyoung’s hips, and his arms lazily around his waist. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Wooyoung held him back, nosing to the soft ends of his hair, and the back of his neck, softly inhaling his scent. His natural one, with no trace of cologne or body mist. There was no other smell Wooyoung could compare his scent to, but it was one he did not mind at all. It was dull, barely there, faintly sweet. Kind of like baby powder. Wooyoung smiled at the thought of it, and kissed the skin of his neck lovingly, making Yeosang whine, but not in protest. “I didn’t sleep at all.”

Yeosang purred, low and tiredly, and started softly scratching Wooyoung’s back with his nails. “You should have.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I got some work done. Plus I wanted to be there if you needed me.” In exchange, Wooyoung started so softly scratch Yeosang’s scalp, which he was told not to do because at that rate he will fall back asleep. “What about you? Why’re you awake?”

Turning his head the other way, Yeosang kissed along Wooyoung’s neck, letting his lips linger at the base of it. “Had a dream where you called for me.” He rasped, his words slurred, and Wooyoung had to lift his palm up from Yeosang’s body to clench his fist in response. “Did you?” Yeosang asked, his lips now on the space below Wooyoung’s cheekbone, placing a soft kiss there before dragging the tip of his tongue across his piercings. Wooyoung’s shoulder twitched, and he found his hand a grasp away for pulling at Yeosang’s hair.

“I didn’t call for you, but I was thinking about you.”

“You wanted to tell me something?”

Wooyoung shook his head, kissing Yeosang’s shoulder through his clothes. With one last squeeze, Yeosang untangled from around him, stood up, and lazily made his way to the kitchen. “Hold on.” He grumbled.

As soon as he left, Wooyoung let himself fall back down, his hand over his chest, beating with the strength of two. He smiled to himself, unbelieving at how he had managed to keep that smile on for so many weeks. And even after he was so grateful for every second, he never stopped asking himself what had he done to deserve that.

He’s learned to be happy just by hearing Yeosang minding his own business in the house, even if he ignored him. Wooyoung loved seeing him so much, in his own little world, that there were times when all he could do was stare and unconsciously fall in love like it was the first time. He didn’t know what Yeosang was doing in the kitchen, but he could hear the sound of water boiling in the kettle, a little spoon stirring into a cup, and plastic rustling,

Yeosang returned with two steaming mugs in his hands, blinking the sleep away from his eyes. His cheeks were rosy and puffy. If he hadn’t been carrying anything, Wooyoung would have kissed the life out of them.

The day before they had gone shopping together for the first time, and they realised how smart they could get when it came to holding hands and other public displays of affection. When they had reached the home section of the store they were in, they both pointed at a set of two matching cat mugs, and they fought over who should get it for whom. Wooyoung kept the green one, Yeosang kept the purple. Not because it was purple, but because the cat on the mug resembled Ari better. They were both at Yeosang’s place, on a shelf above the counter where Ari couldn’t reach. Wooyoung was never going to know how happy Yeosang became when he remembered the mugs were there.

As Yeosang passed him his mug, Wooyoung felt a strange smell coming from it. However, one that he was all too familiar with it, he took a sip. “Is this whiskey?”

“Yeah.”

“…You still have whiskey?”

“I know you never drink coffee and hot chocolate without it. Do you like it?”

“I do. It…It tastes like…” Wooyoung paused, taking a bigger sip, savouring it. “Like diabetes.”

“There’s like two sugar cubes in there. Brown sugar, mind you.”

“How pretentious.”

Wooyoung took Yeosang’s cup right when he was ready to drink from it. Yeosang frowned and took Wooyoung’s, drinking from it like he was doing something illegal. He stared into the cup, his tongue moving around in his mouth. “I think I’ll put some cream liquor in mine.”

“Oh, my, someone’s stocking up on alcohol.”

“If it’s with hot chocolate, then it’s okay.”

Cream liquor and hot chocolate turned out to be a better combination, but Wooyoung was too prideful to admit. Ariadne jumped right over Wooyoung, creeping however high she had to in order to reach the mug. Wooyoung waved the mug around in the air, laughing at how Ari’s ears twitched, but when Yeosang warned that she was preparing to jump, Wooyoung put the half empty mug down on the coffee table and cuddled her in his arms. She was calm for the first five seconds, until she realised that Wooyoung had his glasses on. She had tried to sniff and steal them before, but what neither of them expected was for her to nearly slap them off Wooyoung’s face. He sighed, and Yeosang laughed. He took his glasses and put them away.

“Woo, I never told you, but you look really pretty without your glasses too.”

“Aww, thanks. You look really beautiful like this too.” Wooyoung replied, temporarily letting Ari go to figure out what she wanted to do, but once she earned her freedom, she remembered about the funny smelling mug, so Wooyoung scooped her up again.

“Thank y- Wait, are you saying this because you can’t see me?”

“Nah, I’m just messing. I can see you. I’m nearsighted. But even if one day I’ll forget my glasses, and I’ll have to watch you perform from upstairs, I’ll still be like ‘Damn, he cute’.” Wooyoung picked Ari’s pink cat wand up, waving it like a peace flag. 

“Imagine you having to sit at the VIP table just to watch me like-” He said, squinting his eyes almost shut while tilting his head forward.

“Shut up, don’t think I won’t! I do that all the time home. San purposely shows me stuff on his phone when I’m not wearing my glasses just to watch me go like…that fish meme…the one squinting his eyes. And I always fall for it.”

“If you do that in front of me, I will cry. Especially when I’m on stage. Please don’t.”

“Now I really want to do it.”

Yeosang considered, and then pointed at Wooyoung’s glasses while the cat was distracted. “…Can I try them?”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung agreed, taking his glasses and putting them over Yeosang’s nose. “You know what, I’m kind of digging it. You look cute.”

“…I can see.”

“…Y-You should be able to see, yeah.”

“No, I mean. They don’t bother me.” Then he slowly turned his head around to look towards the other corner of the room, and then in the distance, out the window. “Oh, my God, it’s like I’m in a portal.” Yeosang’s lips remained parted in awe, and his eyes were wide open. Wooyoung couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve never seen the world so clearly before. Wow, I can finally read what that shop over there says. Is that a new colour? I’ve never seen that colour before. I thought I had good eyesight. Turns out I’m blind after all.”

“You’re not blind!”

“I’m keeping these.”

“No, you’re not, they were expensive.”

“How expensive?”

“Like six pay checks and half a kidney.”

“So an entire kidney.”

“…Can you please let me be funny.”

“I didn’t realise you were being funny.” He kept the glasses on. Ari was slowly becoming more unresponsive to the toy. “She’s getting tired, look at her.” 

“She hasn’t slept that much today.”

“Look at you knowing how much a kitty should sleep per day.”

“Of course I know.” Wooyoung ran his fingers through Yeosang’s hair, scratching it like he was scratching Ariadne’s fur with his other hand. “Been dating one for a while. And I know he’s been on his phone more often than he was asleep for two nights now.”

“But I couldn’t sleep.” Yeosang whined, shimmying his way into Wooyoung’s arms and chest. Ariadne dropped the toy from her mouth and joined in, climbing over Wooyoung’s stomach and into the warmth between their bodies. “But you. You slept really well.”

Wooyoung nodded, lifting Yeosang’s chin up to kiss him. “Yeah, it feels awful.”

“But you feel better. You look better too.”

“You saying I was ugly before?”

“No. You just look healthier now.” He said, and smiled at full brightness when Wooyoung started rubbing his cheek against his head. He started doing that to Ari too when she’d rub herself against him for attention, but she did not like it when others did it to her. It worked for Yeosang, however.

“Did you know I made a playlist for you?” Wooyoung asked, still at it. He lifted his cheek just to kiss Yeosang’s hair.

“You didn’t. Is that a thing we’re doing now?”

“I like making playlists for everything. And I made one with songs that remind me of you.”

“Can I listen to it?”

Wooyoung connected his headphones and handed Yeosang his phone. “You never sent me songs.”

“I only have warmup playlists. But…” He looked through his phone and quickly made one with songs he listened to at no specific time of day. “Here.” And handed Wooyoung his phone and headphones. Wooyoung lied his head on Yeosang’s lap, rolled to his side, and listened. He leaned his hand over his own shoulder, wiggling his fingers in the air, until Yeosang took his hand. Yeosang closed his eyes, taking the song in, although he could not understand the language. At least not everything. He looked up the lyrics and started the song off again. Wooyoung seemed to be doing the same. One song passed for each. They were both as focused. Yeosang skipped the songs he didn’t like, but he appreciated the effort. The playlist Wooyoung was listening to was filled with songs that made him fall asleep. The song he was currently listening to was ‘Prosperity+Rain’ by Brahny. He had certain feelings about the songs he had listened to so far, but he waited. He gave ‘Red Light’ by Tei Shi a chance. He had nothing to comment over that one. That was the only not suspicious song on that playlist.

After he finished listening, he turned around to face the ceiling and contemplated his life choices. When Yeosang removed his headphones too, Wooyoung attacked right away.

“They’re very…sexy.”

“The songs?”

“Yes. Very sensual.”

“I know. They should be.”

“Why?”

“They help me stay in touch with that side of mine. You look traumatised.” 

“Yes, I was not expecting that.”

“Anything else you want to comment?”

“…Your music taste is not up my alley, but I can appreciate it. Those songs are good for…baths and candles and bath bombs.”

“That’s exactly what I do.”

“Really? Man, I know you so well.”

“I liked yours too. I didn’t listen to it all, but so far I like ‘Don’t be scared, I love you’ the most.”

“I knew you’d love that one.” Wooyoung rolled over again, facing Yeosang, and kissed his navel through his shirt. “You like slow songs?”

“Yeah.”

Wooyoung hummed. “What else do you like slow?”

“Get off me.” Yeosang said, smiling, and raising his knees until Wooyoung lifted himself.

Wooyoung looked mad for a second, or less than that, enough for Yeosang to let his guard down, after which he seized his waist and pushed him back down. He pressed his finger to his ribcage, knowing he was ticklish, and stood there, smiling and watching Yeosang laugh, enjoying the show. “You’re adorable.” He cooed. Yeosang tried to push his hand away, but Wooyoung resorted to properly tickling him. Gentler than usual. Both of his hands were firmly on Yeosang’s waist, wanting to keep him still. As they travelled upwards, Yeosang’s breath hitched in his throat. Having finally stopped Wooyoung’s hands from moving, he held him by the wrists, with the intention to change his mind. “I miss you.” He rasped.

“I’m here.”

“Not like that.” Yeosang said. Wooyoung lied low, holding his wrist down above his head, and kissed him languidly. “I miss…You.”

Wooyoung grabbed Yeosang’s chin and tilted his head, walking the tip of his tongue along his jawline, and lower. “And what do you want me to do about it?” He nibbled at his neck, slotting his leg in between Yeosang’s when he wanted to close them together. “Come on. Tell me.” Yeosang whined in response, clawing at Wooyoung’s shirt. “Tell me what you want, pretty.”

Yeosang squirmed, his lips stubbornly clutched shut. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?” He released him, and withdrew his leg. “A’ight then.”

“Please.” Yeosang broke out, guiding Wooyoung’s hand back on his stomach, on the little space of exposed skin he had. He gulped. “Take me to bed?”

They made a run for it while Ariadne was busy snacking. Wooyoung closed the door behind him, and pointed at Yeosang’s phone. “You wanna have your playlist on?” He watched his boyfriend taking off his robe, dimming the lights down, and getting the first song started, before putting his arms around his waist and guiding him to bed.

Wooyoung grabbed the hem of Yeosang’s shirt between his index and middle finger, slowly pulling it up as if it was a veil. Yeosang leaned back, his eyes relaxed, but curious on Wooyoung, on how enraptured he was at the sight of his skin, as if it was his first time seeing it bare. “Can I?” Wooyoung asked, and once he blinked the second time, Yeosang’s shirt was now scrunched up in his hand and tossed on the floor. They met each other’s expectant eyes, until Yeosang’s lowered to the base of Wooyoung’s shirt, pulling it up as the other did with his. Wooyoung took the hint, and pulled his shirt over his head and threw it wherever it fell. Yeosang trailed his finger over the trimmed hairs from below Wooyoung’s navel, until he reached the sweatpants’ waistband. “These too.”

Wooyoung nodded obediently and stood up to remove them. “Everything?” He saw Yeosang’s jaw clench, then relax, before confirming with a nod.

As he untied the little bow from the waistband, Wooyoung held Yeosang’s eyes, and did not cease until his last remaining pieces of clothing were all pooled at his feet and his glasses tossed on the nightstand. He kicked them off and crawled back on the bed, while Yeosang’s eyes wandered, stared, and immortalised. He welcomed him in with his arms open and trembling with longing, and he didn’t think there was a time when his hands were so brazen. He gripped Wooyoung’s thighs when he kissed him where his skin was warmest, and grazed his nails against his back when he bit him in places he hadn’t before. As soon as Wooyoung lifted himself up to catch his breath, Yeosang’s eyes caught hold of the sublimity that lied above him, grander than any sky he’s lived under. He stripped himself of his last remaining fabrics like his hands weren’t his, and held Wooyoung pressed flat against his body, hip to hip, chest to chest, and tongue to tongue. The necklace around Wooyoung’s neck grazed their skins together as to open them up, and the pain burned Yeosang the way he liked best.

Wooyoung raised himself to adjust his position, and as he wanted to lie back down, Yeosang leaned a hand on his shoulder. When their eyes found each other, equally as warm and hooded, neither of them shyer than the other, Yeosang lifted his legs and wrapped them around the small of Wooyoung’s back. Caressing his lips before kissing him, Yeosang pulled him down until he covered him with the entirety of his body. Wooyoung yanked Yeosang’s hair back while prepping his neck for love bites and kisses. With his lips fully enclosed, gently sucking the sweetness out of Yeosang’s skin, Wooyoung rolled his hips. Slow, but hard, like he knew how much Yeosang loved it when he took his time with it. With one hand carded through Wooyoung’s back, and the other grazing along his back,lewd sounds erupting from his mouth. He crossed his ankles at Wooyoung’s back out of want to have them burn together. “Your hips. You can move them.” Wooyoung said, releasing Yeosang to grab his wrists instead. He held them above his head, kissing him with a smile on while his hips worked him wet, and moaning into it like he had taken all of him. He was not taking his time with it anymore, thrusting forward until their thighs softly slapped together, and Yeosang’s ankles became weak. His thrusts were quick and sharp, that Yeosang had lost his rhythm, and fell soft underneath him. Wooyoung looked downcast, at how their bodies blended together, how both their members sought each other. He watched how they leaked, with his mouth watering, and his tongue pressed to the walls of his cheeks. 

Cursing with his teeth clenched, with no warning, he straddled Yeosang, sitting little above his hips, took his member in his hand and slotted it in between his cheeks. He leaned forward and arched his back, going back to canting his hips, and moaning with every stroke. Yeosang captured his hips, his nails digging crescent moons into his flesh. Hissing at the mix of pleasure and pain, Wooyoung took his hands and ushered them around his neck. “Please…Oh, please.” Yeosang parted his lips to ask, until Wooyoung fully wrapped his fingers around his neck. “Jus’ do it, it’s okay, I love that.” He rolled his hips tactfully, stroking Yeosang like he would with his hand, and that was exactly what made them both weak. Yeosang crossed his thumbs over Wooyoung’s neck, watching in awe at the new range of sounds he was making when having his breathing restricted. His vision was diving, his mouth wide open, and in the moment when his hips failed to move, Yeosang did it for him. He pushed his hands further in, earning himself a near sob. 

“Woo, I- I need to-”

Wooyoung giggled, taking Yeosang’s hands away and straddling off him. “Not yet,” And grabbing him by the base. He crawled in between his legs, tucked his hair behind his ear as he licked the precum off him. “Now you can.” He said, before taking him fully in his mouth. Yeosang threw his head back with a scream, fastening his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair. He groaned as if furious, strings of cuss words casting out of his mouth. Wooyoung wrapped his thighs around his head, the vibration of his moans creeping up to his hips. His mouth was tight and warm, his tongue running wild, like it did each time it crawled over Yeosang’s body. Despite his failed attempts to shut his eyes, he looked down, at Wooyoung’s moist lips, at all the saliva and cum coating the glans. He sunk down once again, grazing him with his teeth. That was all it took for Yeosang. And Wooyoung knew. His hollow cheeks, the clear sucking sounds, the hum of his groans. Yeosang was living.

Panting, Wooyoung pulled away, wiping and licking at the remains of sperm by the corners of his mouth. Yeosang shook his head. “Get over here.”

“Yes, daddy.” Wooyoung was pulled by his necklace in a wild kiss, more tongue and teeth than lips, and one hot hand rubbing him harshly, tugging when he was slowing down. It made a whining mess of Wooyoung, at ready to let his bed language unleash, but Yeosang got his payback, and gently scratched along the vein of his erection with his nails. Wooyoung broke the kiss, and sought purchase to Yeosang’s neck, sobbing with so little control.

Wooyoung rolled his tongue in his mouth, coating it all over in Yeosang’s taste. He let his body fall down next to his, with only his leg across his body, and Yeosang’s arm around his neck. “Fuck…Oh, fuck…” He moaned, dragging his hand all over Yeosang’s chest and playing with his nipple as he kissed him. “Fuck, that was good.”

“It was, huh.”

“You came quicker than last time.”

“You too.”

They paused. Then started chuckling at the same time.

“What was that about? You like it when you can’t breathe?”

“Yeah.”

“For real?”

“It turns me on.”

“…That’s one thing off the list of ways I planned to kill you by.”

Wooyoung squeezed his face and stamped a kiss on his cheek. “Kill me with love and call it a day.”

“I tried. You said it turns you on.” He pulled the duvet on with his foot and covered Wooyoung. “I’ll go get cleaned up.”

But Wooyoung rolled over, took his shirt, and wiped everything off Yeosang’s body. Then tossed it away again. “There.”

“Bath time?”

Wooyoung hummed negatively, snuggling to Yeosang’s side. They were both under covers, rubbing their feet against each other’s legs to warm them up, and both yelping when they’d hit a warm spot. They fought over their spot on the same pillow, pushing each other’s head off it. Yeosang gave up, and rested his head on Wooyoung’s chest because he knew Wooyoung would give him kisses instantly. “Baby,” He murmured. Yeosang hummed curiously. “Thank you for the tuition thing…but please don’t do that again.”

“I was expecting you to fight me over it.”

“…I was about to. But I’m done.”

“With what?”

“With fighting you. I’ll save it for something worse. I know you meant well. Although, I am a little mad because I knew you had plans. I know you were saving up to move out. And you sacrificed your savings for me.”

“And you sacrificed your time for me. Those two don’t compare. Me moving out isn’t a necessity. Your tuition was…You always work so hard. It’s the least I could do.” He tipped his chin up to check the expression on Wooyoung’s face. “I’d give you anything you want.” There wasn’t much emotion on his countenance. His eyes were on the ceiling, but wandering much farther.

“I can think of something.”

“What’s that?”

“I need you to keep something in mind.” His hand was now on Yeosang’s shoulder, and his eyes were painting memories in the form of stars on the ceiling. “I need you to remember that you’re enough. This is what I want you to do for me.”

Yeosang closed his eyes, turned his head towards the ceiling, and opened them back. “…I’m enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE AND I MISS THEM AND ARI NEEDS MORE SCREENTIME.
> 
> ___
> 
> I can't believe there's only one chapter left. T'was wild.  
> And if you made it this far ;( thank you sm.
> 
> ___
> 
> Also be kind to people.


	10. Cherry Picking In The Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The months they had spent being the centre of each other’s Universe were months that had made the word itself lose its meaning."

The months they had spent being the centre of each other’s Universe were months that had made the word itself lose its meaning. They knew no days or hours, or no near full year of being together. Their temporal map resembled a starry sky more, where every constellation was named after memories. There was one for the time they dressed up in each other’s clothes at work, or the time when Yeosang came home with a book called ‘Crafting with your Cat’s Hair’. And many other times when Yeosang would, indeed, collect Ari’s fur in a ziplock bag and made finger puppets out of it, leaving both Ariadne and Wooyoung very confused. There were stars named after things they said to each other, while sleepwalking or while drunk, and they extended to inside jokes. It had been almost a year in which they had built each other on comfort and vivid memories.

Wooyoung moved out, as promised, but only after he knew for sure Jongho would move out and take his place, because he did not trust anyone else in the world to take care of his soulmate. One month after Jongho turned eighteen, he’s had enough of waiting for San, and asked him out for the first time. On a proper date.

It was strange for Wooyoung not to see his art stuff all over his old room, and instead to find similar stuff about Broadway and musicals and theatre. His and San’s room were one, that being the reason why he celebrated when they became a couple. He was as strict with San’s sleep schedule as Yeosang once was with Wooyoung, only that Jongho was less nice about it and resorted to physical threats from the second attempt. Jongho passed the audition at _L’aubade_ , and while everyone was congratulating him, he went straight up to Yeosang to ask him to help perfect his dancing. So they became dance partners.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa dedicated all of their alone time to bonding (in more ways than one) and settling all of their misunderstandings. They went on a (bonding) trip to Okinawa, and came back home as partners. Seonghwa convinced Hongjoong to finally buy shoes their size because “No, little star, you’re not just gonna ‘grow into them’.” And Seonghwa also became Hongjoong’s personal driver, because every day they had less control over their life.

Yunho and Mingi continued being the old and rich couple they were, and went on a holiday to Marseille for their anniversary. But this was only after Yunho put his plan into function to kick Heejin out without anyone knowing. Yunho had connections with entertainment companies, so he had three of them butter Heejin up with compliments and scout him, make him quit his job at the club (because he could not possibly be a trainee _and_ work full-time), have someone better take his place, and then if he debuted, good for him, if he didn’t, then he had to look for a job somewhere else. He didn’t debut. Yunho knew he wouldn’t, and that is why he did it. When he told everyone his plan that had taken four months, everyone feared for their lives, including his husband and boyfriend. He concluded his story with “And that is why you don’t fuck with a king and queen. I am 6’0 and these 6’0 are made out of lions and wolverines and victorious wars…Also we need to change the rails and the front doors because they’ve been bothering me since my mother was born.”

While the husbands and boyfriends and managers (the same couple, that is) were gone, the club was closed. Nobody knew what to do with their lives, until Wooyoung had the idea that they should finally visit his family. Yeosang hated the idea so much, that he stress-bought every single member of the family two gifts each. From that day, Wooyoung kept track of the times Yeosang had left until he will completely lose his mind. Wooyoung’s family liked him, but his little brother loved him the most. He was so shy around him, that when he interacted with him, he had to whisper it in Wooyoung’s ear first, who would then transmit the message to Yeosang. Then Wooyoung left them in the same room together, until he had no choice, but to talk to him.

Two weeks from then, Yeosang took Yeonha back home because he had built enough courage visit his parents. She also gave Wooyoung live updates, but no one needed to know that.  No scoldings and no discouraging glares happened, and the word ‘disappointed’ was not uttered once. He showed everyone pictures and videos of him on stage, and if his parents faked how impressed they were, they faked it very well. Back home, Wooyoung was worried that he was about to come out to his parents, but that was not the case. It was the mom asking Yeonha how her girlfriend was doing, and after that, they passed the ‘How’s your boyfriend or girlfriend? Is she okay? He?’ question to Yeosang, and he took the chance. He was not very happy. They asked for a picture of Wooyoung, and ended up praising him for his looks. Yeosang’s daily word supply had ran out. He accepted the situation and took the next train home.

During the time he was away, Wooyoung was responsible of Ariadne. Yeosang left him a list of twenty-six rules which Wooyoung already knew…So he didn’t read the list. Instead, he treated Ari like he had always wanted. “We’ll go for walkies like girlfriends, and dress up and be cute, have tea and fancy snacks.” He said. While they went for walkies, Ari found another cat she was interested in, and from then she would not stop sleeping by the door. He tried everything, from toys to fancy tuna. But after three hours, he had to resort to The Catnip. Now, Wooyoung never had a cat before, and he didn’t know much about The Catnip. He also never knew if ‘cats getting high on The Catnip’ was a joke or not. Until Ari started running with The Catnip bag all over the house, and spreading it all over the floor, and rubbing her cheek and head and back against it. Then she started stuttering while meowing. Wooyoung’s had enough, and brought out the vacuum.

To distract Yeosang from The Catnip incident, Wooyoung brought his camera and had en entire photoshoot with Ari while she was still…high. He put her on the windowsill, when she poked her tongue out and started wagging her tail, and panting like dog. “Ari…Angel…Baby girl…My tiny tuna-tuna…I said ‘cat’, sweetie. Why are you suddenly a dog?” But she was, nonetheless, cooperative for twenty aesthetic pictures in a row. 

After Yeosang and his sister came back, Yeonha had _officially_ broken the news that she finally found someone who could make her happy, after about eight attempts. Yeosang was more than happy for her, until Yeonha told him that this person was someone named Choi Haneul, who happened to be San’s older sister. They were happy for them together, no awkward moments and no protests. Until San had a particularly energy drink filled night, and told Yeosang ‘They could be fucking right now…’. Yeosang wanted to kick him out of his own home. And he was about to do it himself too, but then San asked him who was the bottom. Yeosang was confident it wasn’t Yeonha, but he let San speak. He let him believe his own lie.

Three months after Wooyoung lived alone in his own tiny studio, a problem with the contract had occurred, where the landlord had misread the tenancy time. He tried to fix the problem himself, but Yeosang paid him a surprise visit and saw boxes and bags in his room. He knew it was pointless to get mad, so he skipped to the part where he invited Wooyoung to stay with him until he found a place. It was not the having a roommate part that bothered Yeosang, it was that his studio was not meant for two people to live in. Wooyoung had more art supplies than he had clothes.

Yeosang replaced the framed French articles he had in his room with the sketches Wooyoung made of him. It turned out he had a lot more than he had frames, so he bought a special album just to fit all of them in there. He was living his ideal life, waking up next to Wooyoung, and cooking together, and going shopping together, and him coming home to him and Ari watching stuff. Them going to and coming home from work together, Yeosang visiting him at Uni and having lunch.

Until the sock incident. A series of incidents actually.

One day, Wooyoung stood up to head to the bathroom, and as he did, he kicked off his socks. For no reason. And he did not pick them up, nor he did notice them, until Ari took them and tore them apart. Yeosang thought he saw the devil himself. He saw him doing the same thing in the kitchen, on the cold floor. Yeosang’s house was peppered with sushi-patterned socks. He counted seven pairs. Sprinkled all over. He did not even know that there were so many types of sushi.

On the first stage and week, Yeosang gathered them and tossed them in the laundry basket.

On the second week, he stopped doing that, because he saw Wooyoung was taking advantage of it. He told Yunho and Seonghwa about it, and only one out of two gave him advice.

On the third week, Yeosang started gathering them all, and hid them in his side of the wardrobe, along with the socks he hasn’t used yet. He hid them all, hoping Wooyoung would notice and have the initiative to wash them or even ask. He didn’t. Yeosang was proud of himself. He thought “Hah, I got ‘em this time.” But he didn’t either. Wooyoung started stealing Yeosang’s socks.

On the final week “How long are you going to do this for?” He snapped.

“Do what?”

“Where are your socks?”

“…I don’t know. I left a pair here. And one over there. And one in the kitchen. I thought Ari stole them.”

“All of them.”

“I don’t know.”

“Those are mine, you know.”

“I know. They’re pretty cute. They’re mine now.”

“…You really need to stop doing this. The only thing I want on the floor is the carpet, and occasionally, Ari. Nothing else. Get your shit together.”

Against all odds, Wooyoung listened. And made the biggest effort too. Yeosang traded him the socks back, in exchange of a promise. “I can’t believe. Other people fight over money, over loyalty, over children, over poor behaviour…And we fight over socks! Who are you? Why are you like this?” Yeosang shouted while doing the laundry. Wooyoung was in charge of folding the clothes in the other room, but after hearing Yeosang, he couldn’t stop laughing with tears. “Of course you’re fucking laughing! You got your socks back! They’re not even cute, they- Oh, God, this one has a hole in it. I can’t believe this. Do this one more time, I’m calling your mother.” But Wooyoung was only prompted to laugh even louder, until his knees couldn’t hold him up anymore.

“Baby boy! Love of my life! My everything! I love you!”

“I hate you!”

Wooyoung leaned against the opened door, arms crossed. “… _Socks_ to be you.”

“Please shut up. You’re annoying.”

“Well this shouldn’t come as a… _sock_ to you.”

“Jung Wooyoung.”

“Daddy?”

“Leave.”

“A’ight, imma go buy water..."

"Please."

"I guess you could say I’m… _socking_ up on it.”

Yeosang waited for him to run out of puns.

The second and biggest thing Wooyoung did that Yeosang had a big problem with was the touching. But not the usual kind. When Yeosang was mad and refused Wooyoung’s apologies, Wooyoung touched him somewhere and kept his hand glued there until Yeosang would interact first. Sometimes it was on his arm, sometimes on his back, but what got Yeosang reacting the quickest was his head. Sometimes he would forget his hand was there, and when he did, Wooyoung _squished_ him to remind him. His record was an entire movie. Wooyoung kept his hand on Yeosang’s head for the entire duration of it. Then he kissed him.

The third thing was not as annoying, because Yeosang was quick to repel it. And that was Wooyoung messaging him from the other room. It mostly happened during their alone time. Yeosang blocked him instantly.

L’AUBADE 

Jung Wooyoung: @Kang Yeosang UNBLOCK ME U COWARD

Park Seonghwa: Why did he block you?

Kang Yeosang: Ignore him, he’s been messaging me from the other room.

Jung Wooyoung: UNBLOCK MEEE

Five minutes later they met in the kitchen and laughed about it. Yeosang still hadn’t unblocked him. While they did the dishes together, Yeosang said, jokingly “I should ask San if he wants to trade boyfriends for a while, I need a break.” But Wooyoung did not take this one as a joke. He took a sidestep away from Yeosang and continued wiping the dishes.

“I’ll start looking for a place. I’m sorry.”

The worst part about that was that Wooyoung did not seem to be joking. He wasn’t pouting, or remotely whining about it.

“I was joking. I didn’t mean that.”

“You did.”

“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else.”

“...Really?”

“Really. I’d sell you instead. Might as well make some profit. Or I’d do a Christmas giveaway. We’ll see.”

Wooyoung laughed. They made up. For that day only. As promised, Wooyoung started looking for other places. He wanted to do so earlier, but every time he spent time with Yeosang became timeless. During their time alone, Yeosang unblocked him, a part of him expecting messages, but he found Wooyoung on his laptop in the kitchen writing down e-mails of landlords and agents. “You can stay.” He said, his chest swimming through the first levels of sad. Not sadness. Just sad. “I was joking, really.” He took Wooyoung’s hand to stop him from scrolling.

“You’re sweet, but I know it’s inconvenient. I have a lot of stuff, and more unopened boxes in your balcony. This place isn’t for two.”

“You made me promise we’d move in together.”

“Then let’s move in somewhere. Together.”

“…I don’t think I’m ready now.”

“If you hadn’t paid my tuition, you’d be ready.”

“…That’s not why.” But he stood up, smiled, and continued the subject before Wooyoung had time to react. “You can put the stuff you don’t need urgently in a bag and take it to San’s place. They have more room…If it’s the room you’re worried about.” He said as he went to fetch Ari’s tuna can. Wooyoung looked at him with an even fonder smile on. His tongue was itching to tease him, but the way he was trying to find solutions for them to stay together was making him melt in his seat. He hugged Yeosang and kissed his side through his shirt, mumbling I love yous with his face pressed to his ribs. Then real life and responsibilities slapped him over the face. He let Yeosang go and they went back to sorting that out. “But think about it. No other place has what this one does.”

“And what’s that?”

“…Ariadne. Do you want her to miss you? And sniff around the house after you? You’d really hurt the child like this?” Yeosang tried to make Wooyoung smile again, not knowing why he wasn’t having it. “Woo,”

“Yeah. Was I spacing out?”

“I think so. I was about to say that I’ll support you, no matter what you decide.”

“I don’t think that’s what you were about to say."

“No. I wanted to say that you can stay here because you don’t have to pay for it, and if you don’t have to pay for it, means it’ll be easier for us to save up.”

“Well you pay rent. Obviously I’ll pay half of it.”

“No, your half will go to the piggybank. See, everything’s okay. Everything’s sorted. Everyone’s happy.” Yeosang concluded, joyfully skipping out of the kitchen.

Watching Yeosang being at peace with his feelings and not being embarrassed about it was the reason Wooyoung woke up in the morning. And seeing him initiating hugs and morning kisses, and waking up earlier to make Wooyoung breakfast for when he went to Uni, and him climbing on his lap when he wanted attention. Wooyoung called him out for being clingy, which only caused Yeosang to become even worse out of spite.

When Yeosang was out with Jongho, he looked through his unopened bags and tidied his stuff up. He made complete use of the storage and room Yeosang gave him, donated his clothes to Hongjoong’s workshop, and turned the balcony into his temporary drawing station. The living room was back to being spacious, the floor was free of socks, the bedroom was in its natural messy state, and Yeosang was the happiest with Wooyoung having made himself at home. 

People tended to give them unnecessary advice and disapproved of their choice to already live together. The majority of them seemed to think that if two people spent more time together, they’d have enough of each other quicker. When in reality, those two did not know how to spend even more time together. It shut everyone’s mouths up when they’d spend their breaks together, always in each other’s arms during meetings, and always there to pick each other up from work when their shifts did not match. There were, however, moments when they took each other’s presence for granted, and on multiple occasions, they were reminded not to.

Such as when Wooyoung did not feel like picking Yeosang up from work, but panicked when he did not reply to his message. Seonghwa drove him home after another dizzy spell, and had almost passed out that same night. Wooyoung did not let him out of his eyesight for the entire night. Next came Yeosang’s turn, when he expressed how happy he was that Wooyoung was finally going out. He wasn’t so happy anymore when Wooyoung’s nausea had gotten so worse, that he was threatened with an ambulance phone call.

Through thick and thin, they pushed through. They’ve seen each other at their most stunning and their most disgusting. From putting each other’s make up on before a night out, to patting each other’s back while they threw up out of stress or drunkenness. Those nights usually ended up with them sharing a blunt on the safety of the rooftop of Yeosang’s apartment block. He was very confused about the whole smoking weed thing, having forgotten how he agreed to do it only in Wooyoung’s presence, while Wooyoung always told him “You’re so hot when you’re high.” About ten times a night. Yeosang would take the blunt from him and kiss him in response. And he’d keep it while Wooyoung pushed him against the wall and blew him.

However, everything became a whole new level of official when Yeosang saw Ariadne running around the house with Wooyoung’s paintbrush in her mouth, and said “That’s not yours, angel, that’s daddy’s.” Wooyoung cried to everyone about it, including his mother and Yeosang’s sister.

Academically speaking, Yeosang’s birthday week (or month) brought Wooyoung such a great level of stress, that he almost forgot about it. He was napping between classes when he remembered he had not even told him happy birthday. He stood there with the phone in his hands, ready to call or message, with so much fear in his thumbs, that his fingerprints started to shift. He wrote two speeches, three apology notes, and even more promises, did his best to memorise them, then took his phone to call Yeosang. But when he raised his eyes, he saw none other than birthday boy approaching him at the library table, with a box filled with bite-sized cakes. If Wooyoung could not be there for his birthday, then Yeosang brought the birthday to him. He spent his birthday trying to comfort Wooyoung, and convince him he was not a terrible boyfriend and lover. When Wooyoung would get too stubborn, saying that he didn’t deserve that, Yeosang had to resort to the cringe, telling him that “Spending time with you is a gift in itself. And your existence is a gift too. A cheap one. But I’ll take it. And I’m thankful for it.” In response to that, Wooyoung wrote Yeosang’s little speech down on his sketchbook, and forced him to declare with a date and signature that he truly said that to him. Otherwise, no one would believe him.

“You’re gonna wait for me until I finish?”

“Um,” Yeosang quickly thought of a lie, but Wooyoung had been too sweet that day, so he couldn’t. “No.”

“But?” 

“But what?”

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll see you at home.” 

“You’re gonna drink?”

“Never without you.”

“Good. Just checking.”

Yeosang was, indeed, going out, but not for the reasons Wooyoung thought. He had much important things to sort out than his birthday. When Wooyoung got home that evening and asked him how his day went, Yeosang told him, as a birthday gift, to not ask about it because it’s a surprise.

It took Wooyoung one extra month to forget about the surprise. Every time he asked, Yeosang would hug and kiss him. It almost seemed like him bringing it up made Yeosang happier.

In mid-autumn, on the fifth consecutive day of soft sunlight and no rain, Yeosang went to the club to pick Wooyoung up. His phone was blasting with messages, mostly from Seonghwa and Yunho, who had been with him throughout the entire journey. They were both at work, entrusted by Yeosang to get everyone out of the club and to make sure Wooyoung was there alone. Yunho was the best for his job, because no one asked him questions, and Seonghwa’s kindness was almost deceiving. They squeezed Yeosang’s shoulder in encouragement, both wanting to hide behind the bar and witness.

The spotlights around the stage, and the scarlet neon lights on the walls were left on. The tables were cleared and drawn to the sides, leaving one wide path in the centre of the lounge. Yeosang stood at the end of it, his eyes on the stairs. He was alone with the sound of his unsteady breathing, and the soft creak of the furniture.

He opened his coat, fanning his neck with his hands, eyes on the stairs Wooyoung would be descending any moment. He was serious, like before an office meeting, until he heard Wooyoung singing from the workshop.

It was a song Yeosang loved and also learned by heart from the many times Wooyoung had listened to it. ‘Over the Moon’ by RX. When the second verse of the song started, Wooyoung stopped it. Two seconds later, he rushed out in a panic that he was late, but brimmed with love and joy when he saw his lover and boyfriend. 

“Hey, cutie.” He winked. “You ready to go?”

“…Actually, I-” Yeosang made a sound like a shy growl, or a whine. “I want to tell you something.”

“Sure.” Wooyoung agreed, wrapping his headphones around his fingers before putting them in his pocket. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, um…”

“…Is it something bad?”

“I don’t think so…No. It’s not bad. I don’t think it’s bad.”

“You’re smiling.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“So it’s something good.”

“…C-Can we sit down, my knees are about to drop.”

“We can.”

They sat across from each other at one of the crimson couches in the corner of the lounge, the farthest from the stage. Yeosang’s hands were on the table, his nails short, but gleaming black. He wore a white shirt and a golden watch around his wrist. Wooyoung didn’t remember him having to go anywhere for him to dress up so. “Your cheeks are burning up.” He pointed out.

Yeosang pressed his cold hands to his cheeks to even their temperature. “I know.” And consciously filled his lungs with air. “Right, so, um,” But he bursted out laughing, tossing himself back, with both his hands over his mouth. “I need a moment.” He held his palm up in a placating gesture, giggling his nervousness out. “Right. Okay.”

“No, no, keep going, this is fun.”

“No, I had a point to make.”

“Your point was that you’re laughing without me.”

Yeosang exhaled, his mouth finally relaxing. “Okay. I got this. So.” But his lips threatened to smile again. He could have said what he had to say with a smile on too, but he wanted it all to be taken seriously, like the way he had scripted that day to be. “Okay.” He repeated, bringing his fingers together, eyes canted downwards, then back up to meet Wooyoung.

And this Wooyoung was beautiful. Everyday he kept getting more beautiful, and everyday Yeosang loved him more. In all of his annoyingness. He had redyed his hair a platinum blond, if not lighter than before, and he had gotten a sidecut too. And two more piercings in his right ear. And glasses with thinner, golden frames. And they were accessorised with those chains that went around the neck, with a little star dangling down the front. “You dressed up today.” He said to Yeosang. But Wooyoung was the one who always left the house like the streets were his runway. He wore a sleeveless shirt that day, distressed around the hems and the chest area, and a white, leopard print jacket.

“You’re very pretty, first of all.” Yeosang said, swallowing hard right away.

“You too.”

“So…” Yeosang gave it a go again, intaking another long breath. “…It’s been a long year.”

“Yeah, it really has.”

Yeosang nodded. “And a lot happened.”

“Sure did.”

“But we’re okay.”

“We are.”

“We’re better than before.”

“Two thousand percent.”

“Okay, so I need you to listen to me, and not interrupt me, okay?”

Wooyoung slanted back, a nervous smiled carving his lips. “…Okay.” Yeosang could not see his hands, but he knew him well enough to tell that he was holding them tightly together.

“So, basically, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” Yeosang began, and Wooyoung snorted, nodding. “You’re loud. You’re childish. And you do a lot of things I don’t like…But,” Yeosang clutched his fist, trying to channel all of the good emotions. “But you’ve always…You’ve always listened to me. And you did a lot of things for me. You, um, made an effort for us to get along…Which is good. Because many people wouldn’t. And I- I appreciate it. And I hope I did the same for you.” 

“You did.”

“What did I say about interrupting me? Shut up…I forgot…ah, fuck.” Yeosang paused. “Yes, so…I hope I was right for you…I know I was an idiot at first. I was scared, and I didn’t want to experience anything. I was scared of knowing.” He pressed his lips in a thin line, then bit off the top layer of skin from his lower lip. “But you taught me a lot. And I mean this in the best way. You did everything at my pace…And I wanted to thank you for that. And I wanted to thank you for putting up with me too. I know you said you never had to put up with me, but I know I can be a lot. Or I used to be a lot. I hope I changed, and if I did, I hope I changed for the better. Also, I- fuh-” He groaned. In desperate moments, emotions and feelings were difficult to channel. “I’m glad I have you. I’m glad it was you who said the first I love you. I’m glad it was you who fell in love with me first. That it was you who saw through me.” Yeosang smiled to conceal his eyes swimming in tears. Everything before his eyes was a blur, but somehow, everything besides Wooyoung. “I’m glad you were my first in everything. And that you tried to understand me beforehand. I know I said this before, but— I need a tissue, hold on.” Out of his pocket, he took out two things, one of which was the tissue pack. He put that one on the table, discretely taking one out. Wooyoung took one out too. “Right so…I know it’s probably the thousandth time you hear this, and you’re probably bored,” Wooyoung shook his head erratically. He could never get bored of hearing him.“…But I love you…I love you a lot…Like, you’re zero point two percent close to how much I love Ari. And I don’t want anyone else around me. We’ve come so far, and even now, my heart hurts with how much love is in there,” He wiped his tears, his eyes matching Wooyoung’s, who did not know why he was teary eyed anymore. “So I was wondering if…” Yeosang clenched his teeth, opening the little box with the ring inside, and with his shaken fingers, sled it across he table. The box trembled along.

“Oh, God!” Wooyoung shouted. “Yeosang!…Yeosang, what the fuck?!”

Yeosang folded the tissue with his other hand and dabbed along the corners of his eyes.

“Are you joking? This better not be a joke, I have so many feelings in me!”

“Please, just take it, I’m in so much pain!”

“Kang Yeosang, what the fuck is this! Is this a joke? Are you for real?”

Yeosang nodded.

“Baby!” Wooyoung curled himself up in a ball, like he was scared of the tiny piece of jewellery. “You didn’t…Tell me you didn’t. Oh, God, I’m gonna cry. Please, don’t do this, I wasn’t ready!” But he took the little black box to his side of the table, and held it cupped in his hands. Yeosang went over to him and embraced him tightly. He rubbed Wooyoung’s back and stroked his hair, hushing reassurances to him while he cried. “My baby,” Then he passed Yeosang the box and held his left hand out. “…Put it on me?”

Yeosang wiped the sweat off his palms against his trousers, and with his still trembling hands, he pulled the ring out and sled it onto Wooyoung’s finger. Then he wrapped his every limb around Yeosang’s entire being, latching onto him, to give him an aggressive glimpse of what he had gotten himself into. “…Yes,” He said, his voice filled with tears. “A million times, yes.” Yeosang took Wooyoung’s glasses off and wiped all his remaining tears, and kissing away those that were close to his lips. “I can’t believe you did this. Like I never thought you would. I still can’t- I don’t…Fuck, Yeosang!”

“I know. Me neither.” He took Wooyoung’s hand and beamed, now that he could stop imagining how he would look like with the ring. Dark grey, with a thin, silver line in the middle, with a slight sheen in bright light. “…D’you like it? Does it fit okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s great.” He tried flicking his hand in the air, but the ring was fairly sturdy in its place. “Can’t believe you went for black.”

“This one was very you.”

“It is very me. Thank you so much.” He cupped Yeosang’s cheeks and kissed his forehead and lips, letting them linger there. “Okay, now that the moment is over…Kang Yeosang, what the fuck? This shit is expensive! Did we not talk about saving up so we can move?”

Yeosang looked downcast, his thumbs twiddling. “…Remember when I told you ‘I don’t think I’m ready now’ and you thought…it was because…the tuition?” He was ready to run.

“Oh, this is why?”

“I wasn’t expecting that decision from you!”

“…Can’t believe…this is my life now.”

“Shut up, you said yes. Let’s go home.”

“…Hold on a fuckin’ minute.” Wooyoung took the ring off and put it back in the box. “You didn’t ask me.”

“Ask you?”

“I said yes, but you didn’t ask me…You know…Ask.Me.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“Ask me.”

“No.”

“Yeosang.”

“No.”

“Yeosangie.”

“No!”

Yeosang stood up to leave, but Wooyoung hooked his finger around the belt loop from his trousers. “Ask me, you coward. I wanna hear it from you.”

“…N-No.”

Wooyoung pouted. “…Once in my life I’m given a ring this pretty…and in a context like this…once in my life…And I don’t get the big question…And I never will…I’ll live this miserable life knowing I said yes to ‘I was wondering if…’ instead of…” He waited. “Instead of…”

“Jung Wooyoung.” Yeosang turned around. “Will you…” He paused. Suspense grew in Wooyoung’s heart. “…Will you continue to ruin my life like you ruin your liver every night?”

Wooyoung let him go and grabbed his hand instead. “Fuck yeah I will.” And pulled Yeosang back onto his lap, kissing his jaw and cheek. “I’m just messing. I love you so much.”

“You should. That shit was expensive. You owe me a couple of your salaries.”

Wooyoung tilted his chin up to kiss him, but banged his forehead against Yeosang’s back, laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I know.” 

Wooyoung sighed. “Just when I thought you couldn’t make my life better. You pull a stunt like this. But can I ask why today, though?”

“You don’t know?”

Wooyoung thought. It was no one’s birthday yet, and that date didn’t seem like their anniversary either. “…Not sure.”

Yeosang stood up, tucked his shirt in, and walked up to the bar, with Wooyoung following suit. “I was here.” He said, leaning his back against the bar. “And Yunho hyung was here. I was hugging him. And you,” Then he turned around, three steps away. “Were here. Next to San. You were bantering. And I was looking at you. Because you were so pretty. And I liked your outfit that day.” He crossed his wrists behind his back and skipped over back to Wooyoung, his wavy locks bouncing. “We’ve met exactly a year ago today.”

“You said you don’t remember dates.”

“I don’t, but I do remember the day my brain stopped functioning properly, and my heart woke up from hibernation. It wasn’t nice.”

Wooyoung looked towards the stage, illuminated golden and red, and as he made his way there, he dimmed the lights down. “I came here with so little will to do things in life and so little inspiration…and I walked out already knowing I was going to base my entire final expo on one person.” He stepped on stage, right over the apron of it. 

“Your expo? Really?”

“Really. Everyone’s gonna ask who you are. And everyone’s gonna fall in love with you.”

“I’m sure they won’t-”

“And I’ll show them the middle finger and kiss you in front of them all.”

Wooyoung, in his grandest state, was blinding. His hair and skin had the kind of natural glow that a new word should be invented for. Through the prism of Yeosang’s eyes, everything that was Wooyoung deserved its own term and definition. The colour of his eyes and lips, the tone of his voice. “Please.” He whispered.

Wooyoung smiled. He drew his hair back, and the silver line on his ring flashed like a shooting star. Yeosang had made everything happen already. There was nothing left to wish for. “I will.” He jumped off stage, pulled Yeosang by the collar and kissed him. “Home?”

“…Home.” He promised with a smile. “But if I see one more sock on the floor, I’m taking the ring back and I’m leaving.”

“Don’t you mean,” Wooyoung wiggled his fingers in an annoying proximity to Yeosang’s face. “Divorcing?”

*

“So do you have any questions for the landlord?” Wooyoung asked.

“Yes. I want to ask if I can install a dancing pole in the living room.”

“…N-No, Yeosang.”

“…Yes, Yeosang.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is based on the song mentioned here uwu
> 
> Thank you SO much for sticking until the end ❤ ❤  
> The range of emotions I went through while writing this whole thing is insane, and I cannot tell you how much I hesitated to finish it. There was always something I wanted to add or edit and ;(((( it was hard to let it go. Been working on it every day for months, and not doing that anymore was ??? weird. I cried. Every chapter. I have a lot of feelings.
> 
> But now here it is ;( ❤ And I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I'm curious to know which scene you liked the most, and what worked best for you. Anything is fine, actually.  
> I could never have enough of talking about it...or about writing in general. So oJo follow me? if u want.
> 
> (...there are more fics on the way)
> 
> Be kind ❤

**Author's Note:**

> If there's any tags you think I missed, please let me know. uwu


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